Amor Vincit Omnia: Part III: Children of Heaven
by dr. kitten
Summary: Belial is defeated, imprisoned in the Black Soulstone, but the war is not yet over. Leah's terrifying vision of Azmodan leads the Nephalem to Bastion's Keep, a great fortress on the edge of the frozen north. There, the final blow will fall, and the fate of Sanctuary will be decided in fire and blood. F. Monk/M. Demon Hunter romance. Rated M for language, violence, and sexuality.
1. 1 - O'er Her Heart a Shadow

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part Three: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"I hurt myself today_  
 _To see if I still feel_  
 _I focus on the pain_  
 _The only thing that's real_

 _I wear this crown of thorns_  
 _Upon my liar's chair_  
 _Full of broken thoughts_  
 _I cannot repair_

 _What have I become?_  
 _My sweetest friend_  
 _Everyone I know_  
 _Goes away in the end_

 _And you could have it all_  
 _My empire of dirt_  
 _I will let you down_  
 _I will make you hurt."_  
 _\- Nine Inch Nails_  
 _"Hurt"_  
 _(Lyrics adjusted to the Johnny Cash version)_

* * *

 **Hello, my dear readers! Welcome, one and all, to Part Three of the series-that's-taking-way-longer-to-write-than-I-ever-thought-it-would. I must apologize for the length of time that it took me to produce this opening chapter; my well of inspiration had kinda run dry after more than two years of working nonstop on this story, so I took a two-week break to let the muse recover. Hopefully you're all still waiting and interested. :)**

 **By now, you all know what to expect from this story, so I won't give any warning right up front, though I will caution you that there's a somewhat steamy scene in the later part of this chapter. ;) If you're picking up this story for the first time, I strongly advise you to go and slog through the previous two installments, since I have made a lot of changes to the canon of the storyline.**

 **I hope you all enjoy! Reviews are greatly appreciated, especially in this early stage. Thank you all for reading!**

 **-Dr. Kitten**

* * *

Chapter One: O'er Her Heart a Shadow

"I'm worried about Saiya."

Ghor looked up from the pot of stew she was stirring, her expression passive as she regarded Caesar out of jet-black eyes. The wizard shifted uncomfortably under her steady gaze; when she looked at him like that, he always felt as though she could see into his very soul.

"Ever since Baal left, she barely eats or sleeps, let alone talking with anyone. If she continues on this way-"

"Yes?" Ghor said quietly when he stopped.

"I'm afraid she might kill herself," he murmured. "Oh, not deliberately, but just through self-neglect. It's like she's given up the will to live."

Ghor nodded, but her face had grown vague and distant, and Caesar was unsure whether she was actually agreeing with him, or just responding automatically. Frowning, he leaned over and placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him again.

"Are you paying any attention to what I'm saying?" he demanded.

"My apologies, _rafiki_ ," the witch doctor replied, a flash of guilt in her tone. "My thoughts had strayed somewhat."

He ran a weary hand over his face, feeling stressed. "What is the matter with you lately? Don't think I haven't noticed you acting odd. Do you know something about Saiya that I don't?"

"I know nothing," said Ghor.

Caesar stared at her. There was definitely something wrong with his friend. She'd always possessed a solitary nature, but since the battle with Belial, she'd grown positively reclusive. So far, he had hesitated to mention it, not wanting to pry into her personal business, but he was beginning to worry.

"Hey," he said, "you know you can always talk to me, right? About anything."

She opened her mouth, and for a brief instant he thought she might be about to confide in him, but sudden footsteps caused both of them to startle. Caesar looked around to see Lyndon stepping through the thick brush that screened their camp. He scowled, and the rogue waved cheerily in return, depositing an armload of firewood.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?" he said.

"Lovely," Caesar drawled, turning back to Ghor. The moment had passed. He sighed, patting her on the shoulder as he rose and headed down to the creek to find Saiya. "It's a fine day," he grumbled to himself, "when bloody _Lyndon_ is the only person around me who's acting normal."

He had been firmly against Lyndon's inclusion in their traveling party, but the two ladies had overruled him, and so for an entire month now, he'd been forced to put up with the other man's insufferable attitude. He flirted absurdly with both Saiya and Ghor (neither of whom seemed to mind, much to Caesar's consternation) and treated Caesar with casual contempt, seeming to draw great enjoyment from the wizard's obvious dislike of him.

 _Never once thought I'd say this,_ Caesar admitted to himself, _but I actually miss Baal. Even when we hated each other's guts, at least our fights were interesting. Lyndon just goes out of his way to be as annoying as possible._

Even his reason for joining them had rung false. He'd claimed that a mysterious someone had hired him to deliver a certain parcel to a location in Entsteig, but Caesar had his suspicions that even Fahkri's payoff wasn't enough to save Lyndon from the Thieves Guild's wrath. He'd managed to leave behind another broken-hearted woman, too. Saiya's healer friend hadn't been very pleased when her lover announced his intent to leave. Lyndon, of course, had pledged to marry her when he returned.

Nevertheless, the rogue's presence had come in handy several times. Lut Gholein, on the coast of Aranoch, was a lawless city, peopled almost exclusively by criminals, but Lyndon knew which inns were safe for travelers and which merchants wouldn't try to scam them. On the second half of their sea voyage, skirting the coast all the way down to Kingsport (none of them were inclined to put in at Antham), he'd helped to care for Saiya, who had fallen violently ill. And his skill with a crossbow had kept them well-fed on the long stretches of empty road between towns.

The four of them were currently in the middle of the Sharval Wilds, having traveled by horseback north to Bramwell and taken a boat across the Gulf of Westmarch. Caesar had suggested a more eastern route that would bring them to New Tristram, but Saiya had insisted on heading to Ivgorod as directly as they could.

Reaching the bottom of the steep, wooded hill, Caesar was surprised to find the young monk's garments in a pile, though she was nowhere to be seen. He frowned, scanning the surrounding area. Winter was reaching out with cruel hands, and while the first snow had not yet fallen, the weather was a bit harsh for outdoor bathing. Still, he could not imagine any other reason for Saiya to shed her clothes.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called her name, hearing his own voice echo back to him. There was an answering cry from downstream. Rounding a large boulder, Caesar spotted a slender figure, the lines of her shape distorted by water, floating in a deep pool. Her head was tilted back, her pale hair forming a halo that undulated with the gentle current. She looked perfectly relaxed.

"Hey there," he said softly. Her eyes flew open, and he smiled reassuringly. "Sorry to bother you, but dinner's going to be done soon. I thought you'd want to know."

Saiya shook her head, scattering droplets of water. "I'm … not really hungry. But thanks anyway."

"Come on, love, you've got to eat something," he cajoled. "You didn't have more than a few bites of breakfast."

"I felt sick this morning."

Alarmed, he said, "Your fever isn't coming back, is it?" _If so, that might be why she decided it was a good idea to swim naked when it's cold enough to see your breath._

"No," Saiya replied, "I don't think so. It was just a bit of nausea. It went away. I ate lunch, remember?"

"I saw you eat half a sandwich. It isn't enough, Saiya. Your body is still trying to recover from your ordeal in the desert. You can't keep starving yourself."

"Alright, fine," she sighed. "If it will please you, Caesar, I'll have as much as you like for dinner."

The wizard grinned, feeling rather accomplished. "Good girl. Would you like me to fetch your clothes, so we can return to camp?"

Instead of answering, she swam languidly over to the bank and hauled herself out of the water, crossing her arms over her bare chest and shivering. Caesar's mouth went so dry that he nearly choked. He tried very, very hard not to let his eyes stray from her face, but then she stepped past him, hopping nimbly from one rock to the next as she made her way back to where she'd left her robes, and he could not resist stealing a quick glance, which to his shame turned into open staring. Her porcelain skin, currently pebbled with goosebumps and glistening with water, was split in places by the remnants of old wounds, but he did not find them displeasing to look at. They were evidence of her survival.

A small groan worked its way out of his throat as he watched her graceful movement. Even malnourished, she was exquisite. Her legs were long and leanly muscled, her bottom firm (how nice it would feel under his hands!) and her waist slender and curved. Her shoulders, while admittedly broad for a woman, were nevertheless delicately formed, and led up to a lovely neck. Briefly, he imagined kissing it, running his tongue from jawbone to clavicle, and then down-

 _Stop it!_ he snapped inwardly, angry at himself for entertaining such impure thoughts. Saiya didn't need to have another man drooling over her. What she needed was a friend. He followed after her with his gaze fixed safely on the ground.

* * *

True to her word, Saiya ate an entire bowl of Ghor's nourishing salmon and wild carrot stew, which was flavored with herbs only the _sangoma_ knew. She could swear that she felt healthier afterwards, her cheeks aglow with warmth, the gnawing cramps of hunger gone from her stomach. She glanced across the fire at Caesar, who (having only begun eating solid food again less than a week ago) was devouring his own meal with relish. He winked at her, and her heart gave the little flutter that she had recently started to associate with the wizard. The only thing in her experience she could compare it to was the effect that Baal had had on her when she first began to fall for him.

Saiya had no idea what this meant, or even what she wanted it to mean. Nothing seemed to make sense any more. Sometimes she thought that her life must have ended when she entered the Unformed Lands, that her spirit was trapped there, dreaming of the mortal world. And so she drifted through the days in a trance, her body putting in the bare minimum of effort to continue living, while her mind puzzled over the riddle of _why._

It was her turn to wash up after dinner, and she performed the task mindlessly, burningly aware of Caesar's presence several feet away. He was freezing a cup of water and thawing it again, a ritual he did every evening to strengthen his arcane reserves. Ghor had forbidden him from casting any potent spells until he was fully recovered. His magic was essentially acting as a sort of fuel to keep him alive, and an overexertion at this point could be disastrous.

"Four times," Caesar reported, breathing hard, a sheen of sweat standing out on his forehead despite the chill in the air. "Yesterday I only managed three and a half."

"You are making good progress," said Ghor. "Rest now, _rafiki._ I will take the first watch."

"But I'm supposed to-"

"You look exhausted," she said kindly. "I do not wish you to fall asleep on duty."

Though she said nothing, Saiya was glad of the change, for it gave her an opportunity to be alone in the tent she shared with the other woman, and therefore privacy to consult Leena's mirror. She did this whenever possible, though most of the time, the surface was clouded by fog. Occasionally, a moment of clarity showed her an image of Baal; she could count them on one hand. She had seen him sleeping, his mouth a tight line and his brow deeply furrowed. She had seen him wrapping his forearm in bandages, and refilling his quiver with arrows, and speaking to a figure whose face was shrouded by a hood. These brief glimpses sustained her, like rainfall in the desert, or tinder to a dying flame. She cherished them.

Huddled beneath her blanket, Saiya dug around in her pack for the precious cloth-wrapped bundle. Hearing a melodious tinkle, she paused, pulling out a little golden bell. Squirt had insisted on giving it to her as a farewell present on the day she left Caldeum. She could still see the bashful smile on the girl's face. _"I wanted you to have this,"_ she had said. _"I'm never going to sell it otherwise – the price is too high, I know. Anyway, no one deserves it more than you. Maybe you'll even find out how to get into that magical kingdom my father told me about."_

"I wish," Saiya muttered, tucking the bell away. At the moment, if someone were to open a door for her and tell her that it led into such a place, she would walk through without hesitation, and leave behind the dreary world in which she was forced to dwell.

Her depression only increased when she brought out the mirror, only to find it shrouded and impenetrable. This, it seemed, was not one of the rare nights on which Baal would appear. She wondered if his absence was merely an indication that the distance between them was too great to bridge, or whether he was subconsciously concealing himself from her, or whether _she_ was the one causing the enchantment to fail. Had her attachment to Caesar grown strong enough to impede the mirror's magic? Gods, she hoped not. A month ago, she would have staked her soul on her love for him. It _could not_ be so fragile, so fleeting … could it?

Her scowl turned into a gasp of surprise as the mist coiling under the glass suddenly began to dissipate, and the vague forms solidified into a recognizable picture.

The breath froze in Saiya's lungs, her heart stopped between one beat and the next. She stared and stared, praying that what she saw would change, fade away, prove itself to be some figment of her exhausted imagination, a waking nightmare. But there was no change.

Two figures beneath a blanket, the rhythm of their movement leaving no trace of doubt in Saiya's mind as to the nature of their activity. Baal's hands were tangled in the woman's long black hair, his face slack with pleasure. She raked her nails over his chest, leaving streaks of red in their wake, and he shuddered and cried out. At that moment, Saiya knew exactly who she was, and she flung the mirror away with a strangled sob.

Vera. He had gone back to Vera.

It didn't really matter, she thought distantly, which of them had sought the other out. It was done, Baal had made his choice, and he had not chosen her. The _why_ no longer mattered, only the _what now_.

Her face was wet, she realized, her body folded in on itself, her teeth clamped tightly down on her own fist to muffle the sounds of her grief. It was as though she had lost him all over again, only this time there was nothing to hold onto, no note to read, no promise of meeting again.

The initial shock was passing, and now anger set in, molten and destructive. Saiya was consumed by a desire to _hurt_ Baal, to wound him as he had wounded her. She thought of the words he had once said to her: _"Love isn't the beautiful thing that they make it out to be in fairy tales. It's two people stumbling around in the dark with knives, cutting each other to ribbons because they can't see. Don't you get it? When you give someone your heart, you arm them to do their worst against you, whether it's intentional or not."_

Wiping her face dry on her sleeve, Saiya parted the tent flap and peered out. Lyndon and Ghor were silhouetted by the firelight, speaking in hushed voices. As she watched, Lyndon sat down, and the _sangoma_ stood and picked her way across the uneven ground towards the tent. The watch had changed.

At once, she knew what she wanted to do, and her stomach burned with anticipation and fear. She quickly climbed into her bedroll, pulling the blanket up to her ears and rolling over to face the canvas wall, affecting slumber. Ghor entered as quietly as a summer breeze, undressing and lying down on her own cot. Saiya waited until her companion's breathing slowed before rising just as noiselessly, and slipped out of the tent. Lyndon had his back to her, warming his hands over the flames, humming to himself.

Before she could think better of her decision, Saiya crept across to the second tent, where Caesar slept, and undid the ties on the door with shaking fingers. The interior was dark, but she could just make out the shape of the wizard, sprawled in his customary sleeping position with arms and legs thrown wide. She could barely hear the rasp of his breathing over the thundering of her own heartbeat.

Going to him, she knelt down and touched his shoulder. He opened bleary eyes, mumbled something indistinct, and moved to roll over.

"Caesar," she whispered. "Wake up."

That, he responded to, though fortunately he had sense enough to keep his voice low. "Saiya? What's going on? Is it my turn to keep watch already?"

She shook her head, her confidence beginning to slide away. "No, I … I wanted to see you. I need … do you mind if I join you?"

After a moment of hesitation, he scooted aside to leave room for her on the narrow bedroll, pulling the blankets back. Saiya laid down beside him, her body board-straight and stiff, while Caesar propped his head up on his hand and gazed down at her in bemusement.

"Are you okay?" he asked after a minute. "You look like you've been crying."

"I don't want to talk about it," she mumbled, and before he could inquire any further, she tilted her face towards his and kissed him with almost violent force. He gasped sharply against her mouth, the fingers of his free hand winding into her hair. They parted after a moment and stared at each other, his eyes wide and startled, hers glazed with a mixture of desire and deep, biting unhappiness.

"Well!" said Caesar. "That was-" And then she was on him again, desperate to keep him from talking, to lose herself in the warmth of his mouth, his searching hands, his sighs of contentment. She could feel his arousal through the thin fabric of his breeches, trapped between their stomachs, and she palmed it, enjoying the responsive jerk of his hips, and the groan that trailed off into a breathy whine.

"W-wait!" he panted, as she began to work her fingers under his waistband. "Saiya, what is going _on_? Is this … am I dreaming?"

"Do you dream about me?" she murmured into his neck.

"Yes," he admitted. "Often. But never in such detail. This isn't a dream, though. You're really here, really – _ah_ – touching m- _mmm_." His voice broke apart as she took hold of him, stroking gently. The shape was different than … she pushed that thought fiercely away before it could form fully in her mind. Right now, she would think of nothing but the man in front of her.

"Wh-what about Baal?" Caesar choked. Saiya froze, then withdrew her hand with an irritated sigh. Apparently she had no choice but to confront this head on.

"What about him? He's not here, is he? You are. He doesn't want me. You do. And I want _you_ , Caesar. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to realize it."

She met his eyes then, and recoiled at what she saw there. He looked wary, suspicious almost. He said, "This doesn't feel right, Saiya. I don't know what put you in this mood, but-"

"I _don't_ want to talk about that!" she hissed. "Godsdamnit, are you going to have sex with me or not? If you won't, I'll just … _go_ , and-"

Caesar's arms wrapped around her as she started to pull away, tugging her against his chest. His heart was racing – with her ear pressed to his skin, she could hear it plainly – but his hands were calm and soothing as they caressed her back.

"Stay," he breathed, so softly she might have imagined it.

Entwined, they lay for some time in perfect silence. Saiya could feel the warmth of his hands even through the thick fabric of her robe. After a while, she shifted to find a more comfortable position, and brushing up against him realized, with a little jolt of excitement and alarm, that he was still hard.

She opened her mouth, intending to explain herself, or perhaps to inquire how he felt about this development, but what came out instead was, "I know you were watching me today, by the stream."

The wizard chuckled lightly. "Well, what did you think would happen? You can't just traipse around naked in front of a man who hasn't felt a woman's touch in months, and expect him not to notice." A pause, and then he added, "Or was that your intention?"

Saiya was glad for the darkness that hid her blushing cheeks. "It is nice to be noticed," she said. "I was hoping that you would. Notice, I mean."

"Well, I did. You are very noticeable."

"Thank you … I think."

"I meant it as a compliment."

There was a strange light burning in his stormcloud eyes, turning them the color of sunlight through crystal. Gazing into them, Saiya was startled to see faint lines of violet radiating out from the pupil, nearly lost among the grey.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, without intending to.

Caesar quirked an eyebrow at her. "Beautiful? Isn't that what I'm supposed to say to you?"

"I meant it as a compliment," she parroted, and he laughed again. Watching the way his lips curved, Saiya decided that she wanted to kiss him again, and did just that. It was different than kissing Baal; the Hunter was all fire and passion, assaulting her with tongue and teeth and leaving her breathless, while Caesar's mouth moved lazily, as though he had all the time in the world. She tried to pick up the pace, gently biting his bottom lip, and got a low, drawn-out _"Mmm,"_ in response. One of his hands slipped beneath her robe and kneaded her breast, and it wasn't enough, she _needed_ him like a red-hot iron to cauterize her wound, agonizing but ultimately healing.

"Please," she moaned, trying to drag his hand further down her body. He complied readily enough, but stopped when he reached her hip.

"Saiya, love, are you sure about this?" he asked. "I know that you miss Baal, and you're probably lonely and starved for affection, but-"

"It isn't like that," Saiya said stubbornly. "You don't understand."

"Then help me to."

"I can't. Caesar, just … please. Trust me."

"Alright," sighed the wizard. "I will. Just tell me one thing: is this really going to make you feel better?"

Saiya nodded decisively. "Yes."

All trepidation vanished from his expression, and he flipped them over so that he lay on top of her, his weight resting on his elbows and the knee he had thrust between her legs. She rubbed against his thigh, whimpering at the delicious pressure.

"Too many clothes," Caesar grunted, sitting up just enough to strip off his light cotton shirt. His pale skin was almost luminous in the darkness. Saiya reached up to stroke her hands down his sides, feeling goosebumps rise on his flesh.

He was undoing the clasps of her robe now, parting the fabric and kissing a trail down her torso, following the line of the scar that ran between her breasts. He suckled her nipples into peaks, traced the all-too-visible lines of her ribs, circled her navel with his tongue. Then he ventured lower, and Saiya had to stuff a fist into her mouth to muffle her cry of pleasure. She had no desire to give Lyndon cause to investigate.

"Oh," she moaned, "That feels amazing! Oh, _Baal-"_

Caesar froze, then scrambled away from her, and Saiya felt a wave of cold horror wash over her, followed immediately by a mortification more intense than she had ever known. After what she'd just done, she wouldn't blame the wizard if he never wanted to speak to her again.

"Oh, gods," she whispered. "Caesar, I-"

He held up a hand to forestall her. "I think," he said carefully, "that it's better if we don't go any further."

"Of course. I completely understand." Her voice sounded small in her own ears. "I'm really sorry."

"No, I'm glad," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not sure anything else would have brought me back to my senses, and it's clear that becoming intimate would not have been good … for either of us."

She knew then that she had hurt him, and she cringed with self-loathing. What had she been thinking, taking advantage of his kindness and attraction to her to inveigle her way into his bed, using him for her own gratification, only to call out another man's name in the heat of the moment. It was disgusting.

"Saiya, look at me." When she refused, gentle fingers captured her chin and tilted her face up so that she had no choice. She had expected anger and accusation in his gaze; the quiet acceptance that she saw there was infinitely worse. How could he be so docile about this? She wished he would yell at her, throw something, kick her out of his bed and his tent and his life … anything but just sit there _looking_ at her like he forgave her, like he still cared.

"I can't imagine what you must think of me," she whispered, trying to provoke some reaction from him.

"Can't you?" said Caesar. "I think your heart has been broken, and you don't know what to do about it. I think you needed something to take your pain away, and so you came to me. But I'm not the one you really want, Saiya. I never have been."

"You could be, I think," she said, miserably. "You once told me that it wouldn't be very hard for you to fall in love with me. I feel the same way about you. I … please don't … I don't want you to think that … shit. I _am_ attracted to you, Caesar, and I love you very much. You're my closest friend. I'm so, _so_ sorry for the way I treated you tonight. You don't deserve that. It was selfish and cruel of me, and I regret it with all my heart. I …"

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, stinging the cracks in her lips and dripping from her chin. Caesar put his arms around her and held her close, disregarding the fact that he was still shirtless and her robe was undone. There was something supremely comforting, Saiya thought, about the feel of his bare skin on hers. She wept into his shoulder, crying for herself, for him, for the love she had lost, for her innocence. Even, she thought, for Baal, who had returned to a woman who hated him, and could cause him only pain.

They sat there for a long time before Caesar murmured, "Something's wrong."

Saiya sniffed loudly. "What do you mean? I thought we had-"

"No," he interrupted. "Not with us. Something's wrong out _there_." He jerked his head towards the tent flap. "Lyndon should have woken me to take guard by now."

"Maybe he figured out that I was in here and decided to give us some space," Saiya suggested.

"Maybe," said the wizard. "Or maybe not. Get dressed. I'm going to check it out." He put on his boots and the fur-lined coat he had purchased in Bramwell, in anticipation of the drop in temperature as they traveled further north, and left the tent while Saiya was still trying to properly align the clasps on her robe.

"Lyndon?" she heard him call, and then, more sharply, "Damn you, Lyndon, where have you gone?"

Fighting back unease (the rogue had probably just gone to relieve himself), Saiya pushed back the tent flap and stepped out into the frigid night air. The fire leapt and crackled merrily; it appeared to have been recently tended. Caesar paced back and forth in front of it, his dark brows drawn into a worried frown.

"I'm sure everything's fine," Saiya reassured him. "If he'd been attacked, we would have heard it."

"I suppose you're right," Caesar began, and then went suddenly still, peering into the fringe of trees just outside the circle of light cast by the flames. He mumbled, "I thought I saw-"

A spear sailed out of the darkness, landing point-first in the fire and scattering sparks and embers everywhere. Caesar jumped back as several landed on his feet. Drawing his dragon-shaped wand, he flicked his wrist towards the trees, sending icy blades spinning into the shadows.

Saiya turned tail and ran for her own tent, where her brass knuckles were kept, but before she reached it, the canvas was rent from the inside by a blade, and a massive figure climbed through. The person was Tyrael's height, at least, and dressed all in furs. A helmet of bone and leather concealed the face. But Saiya was less concerned by these details than she was with the fact that the person's free arm was looped around Ghor's waist, holding her effortlessly off the ground, and that the naked edge of the largest sword Saiya had ever seen was pressed to the _sangoma's_ throat.

* * *

Baal paced along the ramparts of Bastion's Keep, stamping his feet and blowing on his hands to ward off the cold that seemed to seep into his very bones. He called a greeting to Lieutenant Merityn, who was hurrying down the stairs from the Northwest Tower with an armload of charts and maps. Merityn offered a brief nod in return before continuing on his way.

Over the month that he'd spent at the ancient fortress, Baal had developed an easy camaraderie with most of its officers. He had a great deal of respect for Captain Haile, a tough, intelligent man who reminded him of Peter Rumford, and he suspected that the feeling was mutual. Haile had been their biggest advocate when it came to convincing Commander Calderos that the threat of demonic invasion was a real one.

 _A whole month I've been here,_ Baal thought with weary frustration, _and that fool is just now agreeing to see to the fortifications. He's grown fat and complacent walled up in the Keep, like a spider at the center of its web, secure in the knowledge that the flies cannot touch it. But Azmodan is no fly: he's a great toad, and like a toad, his reach is long. He won't hesitate to tear this place to the ground to get at what he wants._

"And we brought it here, right to his very doorstep," the Hunter muttered under his breath, glaring out at the jagged outline of Arreat, framed against the starless sky.

"Brought what?" said a small voice by his elbow. Startled, he spun around to see Leah, her pale, tired face framed by her fur-lined hood. The skin beneath her eyes was baggy and bruised, and the smile she gave him was strained.

"I didn't hear you come up," Baal said. "Any luck with the stone?"

Leah, under her mother's strict guidance, had been performing experiments on the Black Soulstone, trying to better understand its capacities, and its limitations. When she wasn't doing that, she was buried nose-deep in books, researching everything to do with the Lords of Hell, and Azmodan in particular, in the hopes of discovering some weakness that they could exploit.

"Not much," she said, pursing her lips. "It seems to react to certain types of magic-" _Dark magic_ , was the unspoken subtext. Baal didn't comment. "-but we haven't been able to find a way to destroy it yet – at least, not without releasing its … prisoners."

"You have time," Baal said. "The knowledge you seek isn't going to do you any good if you kill yourself trying to get it."

Leah gave him a wry grin. "Wow, do I really look that bad?"

"I'm not sure I feel comfortable answering that question."

"I guess I must, then. It's true that I haven't been sleeping well lately."

She came to stand beside him, placing her folded arms on the top of the crenelation, which came up to chest-height on her, and resting her chin atop her wrists. Baal put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, feeling the tremor that ran through her body under his touch.

"More visions?" he asked.

Leah shook her head. "No. Not real ones, anyway. They're more like … really vivid dreams. I see Maghda sometimes. I watch her murdering Uncle Deckard, or … or making love to my mother." She spoke so softly that he had to strain to catch the words. "And sometimes I see things that didn't happen, like the Coven using you and Tyrael as sacrifices to Belial. And I see Azmodan, but he doesn't tell me anything, not like last time. He's just _there_ , this huge malevolent presence in my mind, and he grows bigger and bigger until he blots out the sun, and I can't see anything but his open mouth, filled with fire, and I know that I'm going to die, that he's going to swallow me up. I can feel his tongue, burning-" She broke off with a sound suspiciously like a sob. Baal moved closer and put his arm around her.

"You know I won't let that happen," he said. "As long as I draw breath, no demon will ever hurt you, Leah."

"Thanks," she replied. "That actually does make me feel better."

They smiled at each other for a long moment, and Baal saw the shadow of something more in her eyes. He squeezed her shoulder, just once, and moved away again. A considering look flickered across her face, and he knew without asking that a moment of silent understanding had just passed between them: that she had offered herself, and he had turned her down, and she had expected no less of him.

"You must miss Saiya terribly," she remarked abruptly. Baal felt a pang in his chest.

"Yes," he said. "I do."

It was her turn to comfort him, now, and her little hand tucked itself into the crook of his elbow in a sweet, almost childlike gesture of compassion. "You'll see her soon," she said. "I'm sure of it."

"The question is," said Baal, "whether she'll want to see me."

"She loves you," said Leah, sagely. "That isn't going to go away just because you left without telling her. Though," she added, "I imagine that she'll yell at you a lot before she forgives you."

"I wonder where she is now," Baal murmured, his gaze growing distant, as though if he looked long enough, he could see past mountains and forest to the other side of the world.

In the growing dusk, the pair of them stood side by side without speaking, and stared out at the foreboding black clouds that gathered over Mount Arreat.


	2. 2 - Among the Barbarians

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part Three: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"We are the hollow men_  
 _We are the stuffed men_  
 _Leaning together_  
 _Headpiece filled with straw, alas!_  
 _Our dried voices when_  
 _We whisper together_  
 _Are quiet and meaningless_  
 _As wind in dry grass_  
 _Or rats' feet over broken glass_  
 _In our dry cellar."_  
 _\- T. S. Eliot_  
 _"The Hollow Men"_

* * *

Chapter Two: Among the Barbarians

As soon as she realized the danger her friend was in, Saiya froze in place, holding her empty hands out in front of her to show that she was unarmed. Behind her, Caesar stopped conjuring blades of ice, though whether it was because he, too, was aware of the threat, or because he had simply reached the edge of his endurance, she didn't know.

The giant raised his face to the sky and let out a surprisingly high-pitched howl – a signal of some sort, apparently, for at once a number of other people, all of similar size, stepped out of the wood to ring the camp. Saiya's quick count made it six, including the one holding Ghor.

For several long moments, no one moved. In between debating the best course of action, Saiya spared a thought for Lyndon. Had he been killed before he could set off the alarm, and dumped in the woods somewhere? Had he been abducted? She was unwilling to believe that he had abandoned them to their fate.

The giant spoke in an unfamiliar language, even more sharp and guttural than the speech of Kormac's people, and Saiya realized with a jolt that the person she had assumed to be male (based on the sheer size of it) was actually a woman.

" _Kl'akni si,"_ she said. It had the ring of a command. When Saiya and Caesar glanced at each other in confusion, she mimed pressing something down in the air. _"Kl'akni si,"_ she repeated.

Slowly, Saiya knelt on the ground, looking for a confirmation that this was indeed what the giant wanted. She received a satisfied nod. Another order was given, to the huge woman's companions this time, and a minute later, someone came up behind Saiya and tied her hands behind her back with a length of rough rope. Ghor and Caesar were likewise bound, and the three of them were deposited unceremoniously in a pile by the fire, with one of their captors standing over them while the others tore down their tents and rooted through their packs, conversing with each other in raucous voices and laughing loudly.

"Are you alright?" the wizard asked Ghor, concern heavy in his tone.

"They did not harm me," she replied. "Who are they? I have never seen their like."

Caesar cast an appraising glance at the man standing behind them, whose craggy face was as impassive as a stone wall. "If I were to make an educated guess," he said, "I would say they're Barbarians, though it would be unusual to see any this far south. They don't often venture past Bastion's Keep, or so I've heard."

At the mention of Bastion's Keep, the Barbarian guarding them scowled and spat, just missing Saiya's feet.

"I don't think he appreciated that," she murmured.

"I couldn't care less," said Caesar, but he looked a bit nervous all the same – and for good reason, Saiya thought. The Barbarians could strangle any one of them with a single hand.

Angrily, she watched as they tossed aside anything they didn't want, and keeping the rest. A black-bearded man who reminded her of the New Tristram soldier Jan took her bladed knuckles, though they were much too small for him. Another – a redhead with bones braided into his hair – pocketed the little satchel of ground coffee she had brought from Caldeum. The smallest of the group (a boy not yet out of his teens who was nevertheless a full head taller than Saiya) discovered Squirt's bell, and rang it delightedly over and over again until his leader grew tired of the sound and slapped him on the back of the head. Ghor's medicines and mojos were discarded, though her reanimated snake managed to bite one of the raiders before it was thrown onto the fire, where it writhed and shrieked, emitting billows of greenish smoke that smelled horrendous.

The air around them grew markedly colder, and a bitter wind swept through the camp. Saiya glanced at Caesar, saw the dark focus in his eyes, and knew that he was trying to raise a storm, as he had done against Belial. She nudged him sharply with her knee.

"Don't," she said. "You're not strong enough yet."

"Would you rather I do nothing while these bastards rob us of everything we own, slit our throats, and leave our corpses for the wolves?" he hissed.

"If they were going to kill us, they would have done it already," Saiya said. "They probably intend to enslave us."

"And you want to let them?" the wizard growled.

"Of course not, but now is not the time, Caesar! Wait until they've assumed we're harmless and start to relax."

He started to argue, but at that moment, a wounded howl rang out from the remains of Saiya's tent. The female Barbarian was holding a small object that glinted molten in the firelight: Leena's mirror. Her face was twisted in pain, and several of her men rushed to his side, exclaiming in their harsh language. She shoved them viciously away and strode over to the three adventurers, thrusting the mirror out in front of her.

" _Čo to je?"_ she demanded, tears in her eyes. _"Čo sú to za čary?"_

Saiya kept her face perfectly blank, not wanting to reveal her ownership of the enchanted item. She could not help but feel pity for the other woman, in spite of their current situation. Given the nature of the enchantment, whatever she had seen was sure to be heart-rending.

With a wordless snarl, the Barbarian threw the mirror onto the ground and brought her booted heel down hard on the glass surface. There was a clear _crack_ as it shattered, and Saiya felt something in herself shatter with it. Gathering her strength, she launched herself forward, slamming the crown of her head into the woman's midriff. The impact made the muscles of her neck ache, but she had managed to stun her opponent, just slightly. She spun in a high kick, aiming for the throat. If she hit hard enough, she could kill …

Pain blossomed in the back of her skull, along with a wet, sliding sensation down her scalp, and she fell backwards into darkness with Caesar's shout of _"Saiya!"_ ringing in her ears.

* * *

The next time she opened her eyes, she seemed to be floating in midair, the ground bobbing several feet below her. Her head ached so fiercely that her vision blurred. She tried to move and found herself still restrained, though now she was lying across something large and mobile and rank-smelling, with her feet dangling down one side and her head and shoulders down the other. Turning her head with some difficulty to the side, she caught sight of furry brown legs and realized that she had been slung over the back of a horse.

From the light level, the sun had been up for a few hours. She could hear voices, and the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves, and deduced that the Barbarians must have taken her with them.

Until she was able to gather more information – such as whether the others were with her, what direction they were heading in, how far they had traveled – it would be pointless to attempt an escape. Saiya closed her eyes and drifted back into unconsciousness.

* * *

She woke again when one of the Barbarian men untied the rope that kept her lashed in place, and lifted her effortlessly over his shoulder, only to drop her on the needle-covered earth at the base of a mighty fir tree. Putting her face close to the bark, she inhaled the rich scent of sap, which helped to clear the stink of horse and sweat from her nostrils.

Someone was shouting, though the sound of it was muted, as if it was taking place a great distance away: "Let my companion tend to her, _please!_ Can't you see she's injured?" And then, with an added note of desperation, "Saiya! If you can hear me, say something!"

 _Caesar,_ she thought sluggishly. _I'd better respond so he knows I'm still alive._ But she could think of nothing to say, so she settled for rocking back and forth in a way that, judging by the increased frenzy of the wizard's pleas, had not been at all reassuring.

" _Einar,"_ barked the bandit leader. _"Skontroluj zajatkyňu."_

The oldest of the Barbarians approached Saiya. He was bald except for a fringe of white hair that ringed his skull, and his face was so lined with wrinkles and scars that Saiya could scarcely imagine what he might have looked like in his youth. But his body was fit and strong despite his advanced age, and his movements, though slightly stiff, were graceful.

Kneeling down beside her, he grabbed her face with blunt fingers and turned it away from him so that he could examine the back of her head. She gasped as he prodded the tender skin, and he grumbled something under his breath. Opening a jar of salve, he spread it thickly over the wound. It stung like salt and froze like ice, but once the discomfort had faded, Saiya found that the worst of her headache was gone.

" _Otras mozgu,"_ the old man reported, tapping his forefinger against his temple. _"Fiske ju udrel prisilno."_

As one, all the Barbarians turned to look at one with blonde hair shaved close to his head, except for a single longer strip down the top of his head. He shrugged sullenly, and Saiya guessed that he was the one who had knocked her out, and was being reprimanded for it.

They were now in what was obviously the main base of operations for the raiding party. Crude huts of mud and sticks had been erected all across the clearing, grouped in a circle around a massive firepit. The horses were grazing nearby. There were more Barbarians here, eleven in all, and Saiya's heart sank as she contemplated the notion of overpowering all of them in order to escape. Easier perhaps to give them the slip, but how was she to survive in the Wilds without supplies or shelter? She wished that she could understand their language, so that she might get some idea of their intentions. Would they stay here, in this little temporary village, or would they move to a more settled area, where the pickings would be more plentiful?

It wasn't long, however, before she received an answer to the question she could not ask. After a hearty meal of roast venison and ale (the captives were allowed to partake, though they were obliged to eat scrapes from a plate set on the ground, with their hands still bound behind their backs), the leader began to stride about yelling orders, and cuffing anyone who didn't obey her quickly enough.

Within half an hour, the camp was decimated: the mud huts broken into pieces, the fire smothered, the deer carcass stripped of all remaining meat. The Barbarians loaded up their horses, which were big sturdy creatures with shaggy coats, well suited to rough trekking. The old healer threw Saiya across his saddle as if she was just another parcel, mounting behind her. The black-bearded one took Caesar in much the same manner, while a short, squat man with an enormous, girthy belly permitted Ghor to ride upright in front of him; he seemed to have taken a liking to her, and kept running his hands through her hair with exclamations of delight. She bore these attentions stoically.

Saiya had kept an eye out for Lyndon, but he was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't sure whether to worry or not. If he had managed to get away before the raid, then he might even now be plotting their rescue. If he hadn't been so lucky ...

That didn't bear thinking about.

Saiya had barely eaten any of the venison she had been given, and none of the ale, but before long she felt a hideous roiling in her stomach. She tried to communicate to her captor that she needed to get off the horse, but he just stared blankly at her until, with a violent heave, she vomited up the entirety of her meager breakfast. The old man didn't even stop his horse, though he did lean down and place a leather flask at her lips. A reluctant sip confirmed that it contained water, and she drank greedily, using the first gulp to rinse the foul taste from her mouth.

They rode most of the day, through old growth forests where the light came slanting down in shades of green and brown through the canopy of needles. There was a kind of hushed silence there beneath the ancient conifers that made sound seem like blasphemy; even the Barbarians were mute as they rode, single file, along hidden trails.

With nothing to do but think, Saiya's mind turned to the nexus of her painful, jumbled emotions: Baal. Had she been able to meditate, she would have, but the state of calm had not come easily to her lately. Whenever she tried to induce it, she felt like a raw novice again, being told by the head monk to 'envision her thoughts as the surface of a lake on a windless day, or a sky free of clouds'.

 _If that's what it's supposed to be,_ she thought bitterly, _then mine must be like a thunderstorm, or a sea with waves thirty feet high._

The only time she'd ever tried to force the meditation, she had blacked out for several minutes. So now, instead of working her problems out within the sheltering cocoon where pain could not touch her, she was forced to confront them head-on. It was a terrifying prospect, to actually permit herself to _feel._

Her first thought was of her precious mirror, broken now, the pieces trampled in the dirt. It had served her well, and – until the very last time she used it – brought her nothing but happiness and good fortune. She couldn't help but think that its destruction was a bad omen, a sign that any chance of winning Baal back had vanished forever. Without it, her only link to him was gone. Even if she were to miraculously escape from the Barbarians and make her way through hundreds of miles of wilderness, in the face of the oncoming winter, to the Temple of the High Sun, Baal might not be waiting for her. And if he was not, and did not come, then it was highly unlikely that she would ever see him again.

Tears stung her eyes, though in her awkward, upside down position, they dripped down her temples and dampened her hair. A terrible ache filled her chest, as if a boulder had been dropped into the place where her heart should be. She remembered the previous night, when she had thrown herself wantonly into Caesar's arms in a fit of resentment and lust, and suddenly she had never been more ashamed of herself, or regretted anything quite so much.

 _What have I done?_ she thought miserably. _Baal will never forgive me!_

* * *

An urgent hand on his shoulder roused Baal from his fitful dreams. He jolted upright on his narrow bunk in the officer's quarters, sweating despite the chill in the air. Tyrael was standing before him, torchlight reflecting warmly off his dark skin. There were always torches burning in these rooms, since men were coming in and out at all hours of the night. At first, Baal had found it comforting not to sleep in total darkness – after all, night in Kehjistan had been bright with the silver glow of the moon on sand – but now he found it an irritation, much like the constant hum of voices in the background.

Glancing at Tyrael, he realized that the angel had spoken to him and was awaiting a reply. Baal rubbed a weary hand over his face, feeling stubble rough against his palm, and said, "What? Sorry, I wasn't listening."

"Leah has had another vision," Tyrael repeated patiently.

"What of?"

"A weapon that may change the course of the coming war. She and Adria are leaving now, to retrieve it from its resting place. I plan to accompany them, and you are welcome to join us."

"Uhn," Baal groaned. "What time is it?"

Tyrael politely hid his smile behind a raised hand. "It will be dawn in two hours."

"Gods, I feel like I haven't slept at all."

"If you would prefer to stay here-"

"No," said the Hunter, throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed. "No, I'll go. Just give me a minute." In the dim light, he hunted through his pack for a clean shirt and breeches. He put on his vest, bracers, belt, and enchanted boots, and finally, the cloak that Saiya had given him for his birthday, so long ago. A snap of his fingers summoned Gawahir from his cage; the raven looked far more alert than his master.

Pausing only to check that his quivers were full and that he had remembered to restock his bomb cases, Baal followed Tyrael out of the officer's quarters. Outside the sheltering walls of the fortress, a vicious wind cut through his clothes like a knife. A few snowflakes whirled through the air.

Leah and Adria were waiting on the ramparts, clad in matching fur-lined cloaks. The older woman's severely beautiful face bore its usual haughty expression, and her staff was tapping a staccato beat on the stone.

"Took you long enough, boy," she said tersely.

Baal ignored her and focused on Leah instead. "Tyrael said that you'd had a vision?" he inquired.

Leah nodded. "Yes. It started with me walking through a blizzard, nothing but white as far as I could see. Then shapes began to form: statues of ancient men and women in armor, carrying spears and greatswords. I saw a ruined fortress, half-buried in snowdrifts. I walked through its halls until I came to a room guarded by swinging blade traps. Inside was a box, about the size of a human head, inscribed with runes and glowing with golden light. I reached out to touch it, but everything went dark, and a voice said, ' _The power that you seek lies in Sescheron, to the north.'_ That's when I woke up."

"Sescheron?" Baal repeated. "As in the old Barbarian city? It was destroyed twenty years ago, when the Lord of Destruction led his armies against Mount Arreat."

"You know your history, boy," sneered Adria. "Very impressive. But I wonder at your reluctance to use the demon's true name. After all, you chose it as your own."

Baal stiffened. "You are mistaken, Adria. Baal is a shortening of Baalzibal, not Tor'Baalos."

She waved a dismissive hand. "They are both spawn of the same dark power. It matters not that one begat the other – at heart, they are one entity."

"I didn't know that Tor'Baalos has a son," said Leah, giving her mother a curious look. "In all our lessons, you never mentioned that to me."

"It seemed of little importance," sniffed the witch. "Can we proceed? Or would you all prefer to sit around making small talk while we freeze to death."

"By all means, _my lady,_ " said Baal, with a courtesy that might have been mistaken for sincere were it not for his poisonous tone. He endured Adria for Leah's sake, and because he recognized that, for the present at least, she was using her vast power to their benefit. But he did not trust her, and he despised her with a passion that he normally reserved for demonkind.

Adria created a portal with a casual wave of her hand, and stepped through, with Leah following on her heels. Tyrael bent his head to enter. Baal, about to do the same, was halted in his tracks by a sudden ache deep in his chest. The last time he had traveled by portal, he had been leaving Caldeum, leaving his homeland, leaving behind a pale-haired woman slumbering in a tent.

"Saiya," he whispered, and his hand made a little broken movement in the air, reaching out for something that wasn't there. "Be safe, _nuur il'-en,_ wherever you may be."

Then, with a cold resolve, he shoved his love and longing to the back of his mind, to the little corner untarnished by darkness and evil, where he kept all his memories of her. It he ever wanted to see her again, he had to concentrate on the task at hand.

He walked through the portal and found himself standing knee-deep in snow.

* * *

They rode until late evening, covering (in Saiya's rough estimate) nearly thirty miles. Her body was so numb and stiff from the position in which she'd been forced to ride that when the old healer finally lifted her down and set her on her feet, she immediately crumpled to the ground. He sighed and picked her up again.

Their camp for the night was located in a small cave that slanted down into the mountainside, deep enough in the back that very little light touched it, and narrowing almost to a point. It looked, Saiya thought fancifully, as though some god had thrust his spear into the mountain's flesh and withdrawn it to leave an open wound.

The old healer dropped her at the base of the back wall, gave her another sip of water from his flask, and trudged away again, leaving her alone and unsupervised for the first time since her capture. Presumably, he thought her quite incapable of going anywhere … and he was right, she admitted to herself. She couldn't even stand, let alone fight.

Her bleak mood lightened a little when she noticed the black-bearded Barbarian coming towards her with Caesar slung over his shoulder. There was some fight left in the wizard, for he kicked and struggled against the larger man's grasp. The Barbarian merely looked amused, as an adult might smile at the antics of a querulous child, and dumped his protesting burden beside Saiya.

 _"Odteraz budeš poslúchať!"_ he chuckled, and went away again.

" _Analarin olasy!"*_ Caesar spat after him, his lips drawn back in a snarl of fury. It was a curse that Saiya had heard occasionally while in Kehjistan, though she was unsure of its meaning. She raised an eyebrow.

"Looks like you picked up some bad habits during our stay in the desert," she quipped. Caesar's head snapped around, his eyes bright with relief.

"Saiya!" he exclaimed. "Oh, thank the gods that you're alright! I was _so_ worried about you …"

"I'm fine," she reassured him, touched by his concern. "What about you?"

"I'm physically unharmed, if that's what you're asking," he said darkly, and Saiya recalled how unstable he'd been after his imprisonment in Belial's court. It would seem that the proud wizard did not take well to humiliation, though in Saiya's opinion the Barbarians had not gone out of their way to abuse them. They had been treated more like inanimate objects than people – which, she supposed, might be considered humiliating.

"What about Ghor?" she asked. At the mention of the _sangoma,_ Caesar's expression grew even more grim.

"That fat one hasn't taken his hands off her since this morning," he snarled. "I swear to all that's holy, if he does _anything_ to her, I'll tear his guts out and made him eat them!"

It reminded Saiya so strongly of something that Baal would say that she couldn't restrain a sob. The savage look faded from Caesar's eyes; he gazed at her remorsefully.

"I'm sorry, love. I just … I feel so powerless. I'm supposed to be protecting you, and I've failed. If I only had my gods-cursed magic, I could _do_ something about this, but-"

"It's not your fault," she said firmly. "If I hadn't been distracting you, we might have been more prepared. We might have fought them off."

" _Distracting!"_ he choked. "You think you were … Saiya, I – _oh, gods_ – I can't tell you how sorry I am about that. I took advantage of you, I-"

"No!" she cried, horrified that he would blame himself. "No, Caesar, you responded like any man would!"

"That's doesn't make it acceptable," he said. "I was weak. I allowed my own desires to overcome my common sense. It was reprehensible, and I don't expect you to forgive me."

"Well, I won't," said Saiya, "because there's nothing to forgive. I'm not a child, Caesar. I'm a grown woman who is responsible for her own bad choices. I didn't come to you for comfort, or because I was sexually frustrated, or anything like that! I came because I wanted revenge on Baal, and I knew you would … I knew you'd sleep with me if I asked you to." Her face was burning with shame, but she looking him directly in the eye, willing him to believe what she said. Her embarrassment was nothing in the face of her need to make sure he didn't feel any guilt.

"Revenge?" Caesar said, his tone puzzled. "For leaving you? I agree that it was an asinine thing to do, but-"

"No, not for that," Saiya interrupted. "That hurt, a _lot_ , but I truly do believe that he must have had a good reason to do it. Something out of his control, something even more important to him than me. I have suspicions … he always made it clear that he would not allow our relationship to interfere with his duties as a Hunter. And I accepted that, I truly did."

Caesar was looking more baffled with every word. "What, then?" he asked. "If not for the fact that he abandoned you without even a proper goodbye, what could you possibly want revenge for?"

The young monk sighed; clearly, she would not get away with avoiding an honest answer. "You know that hand mirror that I carry with me? … Well, carried," she amended.

"Oh!" Caesar exclaimed. "I almost forgot. I managed to gather up the broken shards before the Barbarians hauled us away. They're safe in my pocket. I'm not sure it can be mended, but I know how important it was to you, so I didn't want to leave it behind."

If Saiya's arms had been free, she would have thrown them around his neck in her gratitude. As it was, she settled for kissing him on the cheek and murmuring, "Caesar, you are an absolute darling! I can never thank you enough."

It was hard to tell in the poor light, but she thought he was blushing a little. "Don't mention it," he said. "So, what does this mirror do? Clearly, there's some magic in it."

"It was a gift from a woman in New Tristram," Saiya explained. "When you look into it, you see the image of your one true love."

"Ah," said Caesar. "That explains a lot." At Saiya's questioning look, he said, "Ghor told me that she's seen you staring at it a lot lately. She said it like it was supposed to mean something, but had no clue what she was talking about. Now I understand – you've been using it to watch over Baal from afar."

Saiya nodded. "Yes, I have."

"And? What did you see that caused you to be so angry with him?"

Now that the moment had finally come, Saiya found that she didn't want to tell him. She'd been very glad to see the two men she cared about most overcome their animosity and even begin to develop a tentative friendship, and she was loathe to wreck Caesar's good opinion of the Hunter. However, she was pretty sure that he already suspected, and a refusal to answer would only confirm it.

"He was with another woman," she said, her tone flat and dull.

Caesar made a rough noise of sympathy. "Anyone you know?"

"By name only," Saiya said. "One of his previous lovers. She's a Hunter also, and … gods, I don't know what to think. She's not a very nice person, from what Baal has told me. She … she hurts him, but I think he feels drawn to her because of it."

"It sounds like a sadomasochistic relationship to me," said Caesar.

Saiya gave him a blank look. "A what? I don't know that word."

"A sadist is someone who becomes sexually aroused from causing pain to other people," the wizard explained. "A masochist is the opposite; receiving pain is what causes them pleasure. Together, they form a co-dependant couple, with both getting satisfaction from their encounters, albeit in different ways."

"That sounds … complicated," Saiya mumbled. Did Baal's attraction to Vera really stem from some kind of sexual perversion? She had always thought that he simply needed her to relieve some of his inner darkness, but if Caesar was right, and it turned him on to feel pain … well, that made sense, but it also raised a number of questions, the chief one being, _why had he never told her?_ Was he ashamed of that part of himself? Had he thought she would be repulsed?

On the other hand, if the abuse that he took from Vera was actually consensual, then why had the leg wound she had inflicted been so traumatic to him? Saiya had seen firsthand his extreme anxiety when she'd replicated the scenario. Or had her assumption been wrong? Had he been uncomfortable for a different reason?

She shook her head in resignation. There was no point in trying to figure out what went on in Baal's mind. Realizing that she'd been silent for long enough that Caesar was starting to look alarmed, she said, "Anyway, that's why I came to you."

"That's certainly understandable. But Saiya, if you'll forgive me for saying so … how do you know that what you saw in the mirror was real?"

"Wh-what?" she stammered, taken aback. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Enchantments are notoriously prone to malfunction," Caesar said cautiously. "It's too bad that Eirena isn't here; she'd no doubt be able to tell you much more than I can. But it wouldn't surprise me at all if there wasn't some mistake."

He was obviously trying to comfort her, but Saiya honestly didn't know which possibility was worse: that Baal had slept with Vera, or that he hadn't _._ If he had, well, she already knew how she felt about that (gutted and furious). But if he _hadn't_ , if he had remained true to her, then she was the one who had betrayed him.

 _It would be a cruel irony,_ she thought, _if, after all my paranoia that he would find another lover, I turned out to be the faithless one._

"Shit, I'm sorry," Caesar mumbled, having apparently followed the same trail of logic to its inevitable end. "That wasn't a very intelligent thing to say. Look, if it becomes a problem in the future, I'll take full responsibility. I'll tell Baal that I seduced you and-"

"No," Saiya interjected. "Absolutely not. It's very noble of you, Caesar, and I do appreciate the offer, but I refuse to lie about it. _If_ it becomes a problem, which it might not, then I'll deal with it. Until then, I think we should focus on more immediate issues, such as how we're going to escape, and when."

"Not tonight, I fear," said the wizard, glumly eyeing their captors, who had crowded into the cave entrance. "As for how, I have a few ideas, but none of them are very good."

"Let's hear them anyway." When he shot a nervous glance at the Barbarians clustered around the fire, she added, "I don't think they can understand us, and even if they could, they're not paying any attention. We can talk freely."

"Alright," he said. "Well, the safest way would be for Ghor to summon something truly formidable, and let that do the work for us, but I have a strange feeling that that isn't going to happen."

Saiya tried to keep her expression neutral, but she could tell by the knowing glimmer in Caesar's eye that she had failed. _Yet another thing to feel awful about,_ she thought morosely. It had been Ghor's request that Saiya (the only one among their companions who knew the truth about the _sangoma's_ loss about her powers) keep the information to herself. Ghor especially hadn't wanted Caesar to find out, knowing that it would weigh on his conscience.

"Something happened to her, didn't it," he said perceptively. "When she brought me back from the Unformed Lands, she had to give something up in return, and that's why she hasn't used her voodoo once in the last month, even when you were dangerously ill on the ocean voyage." Correctly interpreting Saiya's look, he said, "It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I'm sure she asked you not to. It would be just like her. It seems as though all we Nephalem suffer from terrible martyr complexes." Then his face twisted, and he sobbed, " _Damn it._ The one precious gift she had, and I took it away from her. I wish that she had just let me die."

 _She would have,_ Saiya wanted to say. _I forced her to go after you. It was me._

But she held her tongue and pressed her cheek against his as he wept. She had no tears of her own to shed. There was a hollow pit at her center that had swallowed all her emotions, leaving only a grey determination to struggle on towards whatever end fate would dictate for them.

They leaned against one another, two ruined souls united in their suffering, and breathed in unison until sleep claimed them.

* * *

 _* Caesar basically called the Barbarian a motherfucker._

 **So, you all might have noticed that I didn't bother to translate the Barbarians' words. This is because of the language barrier in my story. As none of our heroes can understand what's being said, I thought to keep my readers on the same page. If, however, it really bugs you and you feel you absolutely must know the details ... feel free to ask me! I did write a transcript for my own personal notes on the story, and I'm happy to share with anyone who'd like to have a fuller understanding. :) Thanks so much for reading, everyone, and I look forward to hearing your comments on the story!**

 **Update: (5/2/2016) The Slovak I used for the Barbarian language is now accurate, thanks to the efforts of the awesome Wryxinka! Yay! :)**


	3. 3 - The Ruins of Sescheron

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Oh Anthonio_  
 _My Anthonio_  
 _Do you ever wonder why_  
 _Or where I am now?_  
 _Do you ever feel ashamed?_  
 _Do you even feel a thing?_

 _Oh Anthonio_  
 _My Anthonio_  
 _There is only one thing_  
 _I've been trying to say_  
 _It may come as a surprise_  
 _My baby has your eyes."_  
 _\- Annie_  
 _"Anthonio"_

* * *

 **Hullo, dear readers! Welcome back for another chapter! I'm very sorry about the wait (which was so long that apparently some people feared for my life ... ;D) but I hope that this chapter will make up for it. It's an action-packed one, with answers to a lot of questions you guys have been asking for ages, and some insider perspective from Tyrael, of all people. Enjoy! Comments are always appreciated!  
**

* * *

Chapter Three: The Ruins of Sescheron

Glancing down, Baal realized that he was standing in the holes that Tyrael's much larger feet had made before him. He stepped up onto the crust of fallen snow, having discovered soon after his arrival in the north lands that his boots, as well as muffling the sound of his footsteps, allowed him to walk atop snow without breaking the surface. For this reason, the men of Bastion's Keep (many of whom were uncomfortable using his actual name) had taken to calling him 'Lightfoot'.

As he started forward, Gawahir leapt from his shoulder, crying out, _"Rattle my bones! Rattle my bones!"_ as he winged his way up into the sable sky. The raven's form was soon lost to sight, a black shape against an even blacker expanse of nothingness. Baal shrugged; his feathered friend came and went as he pleased, bound by nothing but his own sense of loyalty.

Adria had kindled a spell-light at the end of her staff, and by its pale glow was examining a wooden cart that lay tipped on its side, its cargo spilled out across the ground. Leah and Tyrael were nearby.

"Where are we?" Baal asked, joining them. "I thought you said we were going to Sescheron."

The witch's gaze was as cold as the weather. She said, "The fortress lies ahead – or rather, what is left of it. I did not think it wise to take us into its heart. We know not what evil may have taken up residence there in the Barbarians' absence."

"Well, let's get going, then," he replied curtly. "I'm freezing."

They trekked in silence along the remains of an ancient roadway, with Tyrael in the lead to break a path through the snow. The two women walked close behind him, and Baal brought up the rear. All his senses were alert for danger, but there was nothing: no sound, no flicker of movement, no breath of wind.

After about ten minutes, they became conscious of a massive wall looming up out of the darkness above them. The ground dropped away on either side of the road, forming a trench some thirty feet deep, and about as wide. If Baal's estimate was correct, the bottom would be lined with sharpened stakes, to repel invaders.

Fortunately, the drawbridge was lowered, and the massive gates, wrought of oak and iron, had been smashed asunder by some terrible force. Skeletons lay scattered all about the decimated entrance, human and demon alike.

"What a sad place," murmured Leah, looking around. "You can almost feel the spirits of the people who lived and died here – their courage, and their sadness … and their anger."

"Tread carefully," Adria cautioned. "Not all spirits are friendly."

Beyond the gates was an open courtyard, with stairwells on either side leading up to the ramparts. They made for the central bulk of the city, a great pillared hall. The fighting had been just as fierce here, and they had to step carefully to avoid walking on any of the remains.

"Well? Which way?" Adria asked her daughter. Leah frowned, her fingers tracing patterns in the air as if she was following an invisible map. Then she set off decisively, heading for the back of the hall. Here, a staircase led them back outside, to a covered bridge overlooking the buildings below: stables and smithies and Barbarian-style houses, which were circular huts of stone, thatched with straw.

Entering the keep on the other side of the bridge, they found the kitchens, where meals for hundreds had once been prepared in large ovens and cauldrons and on spits over an open flame. From there, they passed into armories full of rack upon rack of rusted weapons, and bedchambers where moldering furs covered stone cots. Nothing had been disturbed in the two decades since Sescheron had been razed; rumors of vengeful spirits had been more than sufficient to keep looters at bay.

Eventually they made their way into a wide-open courtyard ringed by trees, where the Barbarians had evidently kept their prisoners. Iron cages stood everywhere, some occupied by corpses, others empty or broken apart.

Gawahir chose this moment to streak down from above like a falling arrow. Landing on Baal's shoulder, he nibbled his master's ear and squawked, _"All hands on deck, Jack!"_

Baal was instantly on his guard. He could tell the difference between the random words and phrases that the raven liked to babble, and a genuine warning, and this was very much the latter. He readied Shams-sahin, inhaling the frigid air to search for any hint of demonic presence. It was nearly impossible to tell, beneath the heavy stench of decay and the dulling effect that the cold had on his Hunter senses.

"What is it?" asked Tyrael, observant as always. "Do you feel something?"

"I think we may be in danger," Baal murmured. He spun in a slow circle, scanning the thick shadows beneath the trees. Adria expanded her spell-light to illuminate a greater area, while Leah conjured a ball of fire in her open palm.

When the attack came, it was so swift and sudden that it caught them by surprise despite their preparations. One moment, all was still and silent; the next, an enormous creature barreled up out of a deep snowdrift and crashed into Tyrael and Baal, sending them flying.

The Hunter lay still a moment, winded and aching. He, being significantly lighter than Tyrael, had been thrown further, and when he finally struggled to his feet, the courtyard was teeming with more of the things. An ignorant person might have mistaken them for bears, on account of their size and shape, and the shaggy white fur that covered their bodies, but Baal knew them to be _yetis_ – sometimes called _sasquatch,_ or Abominable Snowmen. They were a primitive race, less civilized even than the khazra or lacuni. Normally they preferred to dwell alone, or in small familial groups; so see so many gathered in one place was extremely strange.

Baal had no time to ponder this, however, for the same yeti that had knocked him down was now prowling towards him on its short hind legs, mouth agape. He got a brief glimpse of a flat, human-like face with small, deepset, malignant eyes, before Tyrael's sword point emerged, gleaming, from its chest. The angel pulled his weapon free with a flourish, and the yeti collapsed face-down in the snow. But Baal had no time even to thank him before another of the creatures charged at them, forcing him to backflip away from it.

He had managed to hold onto his crossbow when he was attacked (years of brutal training had taught him to never, _never_ drop his weapon) and now he sent a well-aimed bolt into the soft flesh under the yeti's jaw. It was partially deflected by the fur, so that the wound merely aggravated the monster, rather than killing it. A second bolt, this time to the eye, finished the job.

The battle was not going well. Adria had drained the life from several of their foes with her dark magic, but a stray blow had knocked Leah unconscious. She lay at her mother's feet, a pathetically small figure. Tyrael was already moving to aid the two women, and Baal would have gone as well, but a large number of the monsters stood between him and his companions. He would have to assist from a distance.

He was taking careful aim at a particularly vicious yeti when Adria wrenched open a portal. She gestured to Tyrael, crying, "Bring Leah! Hurry!", and was gone. The angel scooped up the girl's limp form, cradling her with one arm while he wielded El'druin with the other. But even he, formidable warrior that he was, could not hope to stand against such numbers, especially with a burden to protect. He retreated until his back was up against the portal, fighting all the way.

"Go!" Baal shouted, realizing that Tyrael was moments away from being overwhelmed. "I'll be fine!"

"I will return for you!" the angel promised. "Let me see to her safety, and I will return. Do not despair, brother!" He took a step backwards, and the portal swallowed him up.

With the others gone, all attention now turned to Baal. He was on the outer fringes of the courtyard, with the solid rise of the wall behind him, thirty feet or so between him and safety.

Baal reached for his belt, removing a small leather pouch. It contained a powder that he had been developing since his arrival as Bastion's Keep, using his blinding powder as a base. Scattered around, it would cloak the user in shadows, veiling his movements and essentially rendering him invisible. He had included elements of silver and rosemary, which repelled demons.

Pouring a liberal amount of the powder out into his palm, he flung it on the ground at his feet. Clouds of aromatic smoke billowed around him, stinging his eyes and nose. The effect lasted for around ten seconds, so he had to move quickly. He sprinted forward, dodging around the yetis, which were grunting in confusion.

The powder dissipated just as he reached the portal – or, at least, the spot where it _should_ have been, for the magical door had closed, and he was alone.

* * *

It was quite lucky for Adria that Tyrael still carried Leah, or else he might have broken the witch's neck then and there. His wrath was difficult to rouse, but once it had been ignited, it was terrible to behold. His eyes seemed to burn with pale fire as he pointed an accusing finger at Adria, who stood with staff at the ready in case she needed to defend herself.

"Woman, what have you done?" he thundered.

"What have I done?" snapped Adria. "Only saved our lives, that's what."

"At the cost of his!"

"I would not call three for one a bad trade," she replied coolly.

"It shall be two for two," growled Tyrael. "Reopen the portal. I mean to keep my promise."

Adria shook her head. "No."

Tyrael found himself nearly incoherent with rage, and wondered, not for the first time, at the emotional frailty of humans. He had never felt so … _out of control_ … when he was still angelic. He knew that Adria's actions had some logical merit, but her cold-hearted disregard for the lives of others was unforgivable in his eyes.

"Damn you to hell!" He disliked using human profanity, having no need for it, but now he felt a certain satisfaction in seeing Adria flinch ever so slightly. "I swore to return for him," he said, less heatedly. "Open the portal."

"No," Adria repeated. "I will not. By now the boy will be dead, or nearly so. There is nothing you could accomplish by going back. Your duty is to my daughter, Tyrael, and no one else. Do not forget that."

He glanced down at the small body in his arms, and his murderous rage melted into sorrow as he took in her bruised face where the creature had struck her. For her sake, he tried to trust Adria, difficult though it sometimes proved to be. There was nothing he would not do for Leah, for he loved her with a fierceness that occasionally frightened him. There was nothing sexual about it – unlike some of his brethren, Tyrael had never desired the pleasures of flesh even during the times when he had walked the earth in human guise. No, he loved Leah the way he loved wind and sunlight, the way he loved justice: an inescapable facet of his person.

And now she was injured, and required his attention and care. So he lifted his face to the sky and offered a brief but heartfelt prayer for Baal's soul to find peace in the High Heavens. Then, with a heavy heart, he took Leah in to the healers.

* * *

There was an uproar in the Barbarian camp the next morning. It seemed that the horses had broken loose from their picket lines during the night, and were roaming freely through the surrounding forest. A great majority of them had not gone very far, but it took several hours to round them all up again, and one could not be found at all.

"It was Lyndon!" Saiya whispered to Caesar. "It must have been. I bet he released them all to cover up the one he took for himself."

"Impossible," said the wizard. "He would have had to walk nonstop through the night to catch up with us. No, I think we've seen the last of our shifty friend. If he's alive, he must be well on his way to Entsteig."

"You give him too little credit," Saiya said reproachfully.

"And _you_ give him too much. When has he ever acted for our benefit, except when it benefits him as well?"

"He didn't need to save me from the dock workers in Antham," the young monk reminded him.

"That doesn't count," said Caesar. "He was looking for a way to leave that town and escape overseas, and he knew we could hardly refuse to let him travel with us after what he did."

"I don't think he's nearly as calculating as he pretends to be," Saiya said. "And I don't think he's abandoned us either."

Caesar sighed. "Well, if he's planning a rescue, I wish to the gods that he'd hurry up with it. I'm getting very tired of these rude, boorish oafs."

Breakfast consisted of porridge and honey-soaked bread, which their captors once again shared with them, albeit in the same humiliating fashion. When Saiya could not keep her share down, the old healer grabbed her and made a thorough examination of her head wound.

" _Nerozumiem,"_ he muttered. _"_ _Už by mala byť zdravá."_ Then a curious expression came over his stony face, and he said, in a tone that implied he was thinking hard, _"Ibaže …"_

His hands moved down to Saiya's stomach, prodding and palpitating. She twitched away from him in alarm, hearing Caesar utter a menacing growl in the background. The healer paid him no mind, forcibly opening Saiya's mouth and pressing some kind of root against her tongue. It had a horribly bitter taste.

" _Ah,"_ grunted the Barbarian, turning towards the others with a satisfied look. _"Tehotná."_

There was a chorus of loud exclamations from the raiders. Some laughed openly, others frowned in disapproval. The leader asked sharply, _"Si si isty?"_

He rolled his eyes. _"Samozrejme."_

The leader sighed, waving her hand as if Saiya was a responsibility she didn't want and was eager to pass on. _"Dobre, Einar,"_ she said. _"Postaraj sa, že dostane riadnu starostlivost'. Nechcem byt' zodpovedný za potrat."_

It was late in the morning when they were finally ready to depart, on account of the time wasted recapturing all the horses, and also because of the Barbarians' propensity for sleeping late. Saiya was greatly surprised when, rather than slinging her carelessly over his saddle the way he had the previous day, the old healer set her astride the horse before mounting behind her. Her hands were still bound (which was extremely awkward, as they were crushed against his lower stomach) but it was substantially more comfortable than the alternative. She was actually able to observe the terrain they were riding through, which was getting more and more treacherous the higher into the mountains they climbed. The towering firs of the old growth forests were replaced by small, wind-twisted pines. The trail they followed traversed rocky hillsides, occasionally skirting sheer drops into narrow ravines, through which icy alpine rivers plunged and fought their way southwards to the sea. In these places, one misstep meant instant death, but the hardy Barbarian horses never faltered.

Eventually, however, they came to a stream too deep to be easily forded. The bandit leader sent scouts both upstream and down in search of the safest crossing. While they waited, all three captives were placed next to each other for the first time. Ghor reassured her concerned friends that she had not been harmed by the Barbarian who had claimed her.

"His name is Jory," she said. "He has been kind to me in his own way."

"What, by molesting you?" Caesar grumbled.

"I would not call it that," Ghor admonished. "He is affectionate, yes, but not … what is the phrase that you northerners use? 'Untoward'. He has not tried to touch me as a lover would."

"If he does, I'll kill him," said the wizard. "He has no right to touch you at all. None of these bastards do."

"Saiya," said the _sangoma,_ ignoring him and turning towards the younger woman, "I saw the healer tending to you this morning. Forgive me for asking, but that root that he gave you … how did it taste?"

"Awful," Saiya replied, making a face at the recollection. "Why?"

"I feared as much," Ghor sighed. "You do not understand the significance?"

"I thought it was some kind of medicine for my nausea."

Ghor shook her head. "It is a test that many healers use to determine whether or not a woman is with child."

" _What?"_ Saiya exclaimed. "You mean _pregnant_? But … but I can't be! I bled during the ocean voyage, and I haven't-" She broke off with a guilty look at Caesar. His cheeks colored slightly, but he said nothing.

"It was a light bleeding, yes?" inquired Ghor. "That is not unheard of, especially at an early stage of the pregnancy. The child should be fine."

"Child …" Saiya echoed helplessly. Her head was spinning and she felt as if something had stolen all the air from her lungs. It was impossible, a mistake. She couldn't be a mother.

"How does the test work?" Caesar asked.

"For any normal person, the root will taste rather sweet and earthy, but to a pregnant woman, it will have a strong bitter flavor," Ghor explained. "The results are not infallible, but in combination with other signs – morning sickness, for example – they are almost certainly accurate."

She talked for a while longer about different methods of discovering a pregnancy, but Saiya had stopped listening, blindsided by the revelation. _Her child_ … _Baal's child, growing within her … a lifeforce they had created together out of their love for each other._ Her thoughts spiraled out of control, uncountable questions crowding to the front of her mind. Would it be a boy or a girl? What would she name it? Would Baal be pleased? Would he take care of her, as he had promised? What would she do if she couldn't find him?

Closing her eyes, she imagined herself standing on the steps of the temple, belly swollen and round, gazing out across the windswept hills at a figure making its way up the winding path to the gate. She imagined Baal's eyes lighting up with adoration, his hand spread out dark against the pale skin of her stomach, his lips pressed in reverence to her navel. She imagined him holding a tiny bundle in his arms-

" _Postav sa!"_ the Barbarian leader bellowed, striding among her men. She cuffed the youngest on the ear and nudged a few sleeping ones with the toe of her boot before coming to a halt in front of the prisoners. Saiya gave her a baleful glare, not having forgotten how the woman had smashed her beloved mirror. In the daylight, she was actually quite lovely, a fact which had escaped Saiya's notice before. Her face was strong, with high cheekbones and a firm jaw, but there was a refinement to her features that was quite pleasing to the eye. Her lips were full, her eyes a startling shade of violet, and a dusting of freckles was scattered across her narrow nose.

The Barbarian glanced between Saiya and Caesar and raised an eyebrow, smirking. _"On je otec?"_ she asked.

Saiya shrugged. "I don't know what you're saying."

The woman pointed at one of her followers, a middle-aged man with a harsh face and steel-grey hair tied back in a ponytail. _"Otec,"_ she said. Then she pointed at the teenaged boy. _"Diet'a."_ She repeated the word, this time jabbing her finger towards Saiya's midsection, and then towards the wizard. _"Otec?"_

"I think she's asking if I'm the father," muttered Caesar, sounding simultaneously apologetic and embarrassed.

"What should I tell her?" Saiya asked. It seemed an innocuous question, but she couldn't escape the feeling that their fate somehow rode on the answer. If she said no, would they be separated? On the other hand, if she said yes, it might put Caesar in danger. It all depended on what the Barbarians intended to do with them.

Caesar solved her dilemma by leaning as close to her as possible and saying, "Otec," in a loud, clear voice. This appeared to satisfy the giant woman, for she nodded and turned abruptly away to berate a man who was taking too long to saddle his horse.

"I hope you don't mind that I claimed the paternity," Caesar whispered in her ear. "I don't know how their society looks upon unwed women, but I thought you would be safer if you appeared to be under my protection. I mean, you _are_ , of course, but … well, I didn't want-"

"It's alright, Caesar," Saiya said, cutting off his anxious babble. "I'm not upset."

"You're not? Oh, thank the gods." He paused, scrutinizing her face with his storm-cloud eyes, and then said, "I know that the timing is terrible, but I'm happy for you, Saiya. You'll be an amazing mother."

There was nothing but sincerity in his tone, and her eyes welled up with grateful tears. A lesser man, she thought, might have reacted to the news with bitterness and contempt, or recriminations for stringing him along. Not Caesar. He still treated her with the same kindness and generosity that he always had, and she felt another stab of regret for the way in which she had used him.

"Thank you," she said. "I-"

But at that moment, the old healer came over and hoisted Saiya to her feet, lifting her back up onto his horse, a grey mare with speckles of white across her quarters. As they set off again, following the course of the river upstream, the young monk's thoughts drifted away from Caesar, and even Baal, and focused on one thing only – how she was going to escape.

* * *

The Bastion's Keep healers informed Tyrael that Leah was fortunate not to have a broken jaw. Two of her molars had been loosened, there was a gash on the inside of her cheek, and her right eye was swollen shut. Tyrael sat beside her while she slept, studying the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. One of her dainty hands lay on the pillow by her face; he took it in his own, marveling at how tiny it was. The entire spread of her fingers fit in the space of his palm. Her bones were so fragile, her skin like delicate paper, her lifeforce a candle compared to his sun. It could be snuffed out so easily …

The very thought of it struck dread into his heart. He could survive most things, even the complete annihilation of his physical body, but Leah did not have the luxury of a lightform. If she died, she would have no rebirth.

She stirred, groaning. _"Ow …_ Tyrael? Is that you?"

"Yes, little one," murmured the angel.

"My face hurts."

Tyrael felt an exquisite pain lance through his breast, and a bizarre thought crossed his mind: _is this how a mother feels when her child is injured? Does Adria endure this agony?_

"I know," he said. "I am sorry. I have a potion here that you may drink, if you like." It was not a true healing draught, merely a tonic of herbs, but Leah's face eased as she gulped it down. Tenderly, Tyrael dabbed the corner of her mouth to catch a stray drop.

"You should try to sleep some more," he urged. "I will stay with you."

Leah frowned, staring up at the ceiling. "What happened, Tyrael?" she asked. "The last thing I remember was a lot of big monsters coming up out of the snow. Did you and Baal fight them off?"

Tyrael hesitated. He had debated what to tell her while waiting for her to awake, but he could not countenance lying to her, however badly he wished he could spare her the truth.

"No," he said. "We tried, but there were too many of them. Your mother opened a portal, and I brought you back through it."

Leah seemed to sense that he was leaving something out. "And Baal?" she asked, in a small voice.

"He did not make it through."

Her face crumpled, slowly, starting with a tremor in her lips and a glistening in her eyes. Before long, she was sobbing helplessly into Tyrael's shoulder as he patted her back.

"It's all my fault!" she wailed. "If I hadn't had that stupid vision-"

"You must not blame yourself, dear heart," he said, dismayed. "Baal would not wish it. His last request to me was to get you to safety." He did not mention that it had been a needless sacrifice, that Adria had closed the portal prematurely. That would only cause a rift between mother and daughter, and what was the good of that? Leah's anger would not bring Baal back.

Leah sniffed loudly, searching through her pockets for a handkerchief to blow her nose on. "I really liked him, you know," she mumbled. "He was so brave and funny and kind. The first time I met him, Uncle Deckard had been missing for an entire week, and I was beginning to lose hope. No one could get into the cathedral on account of the risen dead. But he just walked in there like it was nothing, and brought Uncle out again! He didn't need to risk his life for us, but he did."

"He was a good man," Tyrael agreed.

She nodded. "Yes, he was. For a while, I hoped that he might come to feel something for me other than friendship, but I never stood a chance. It was always Saiya. I used to be jealous of her, but now I just feel sad that they didn't have more time together. This is going to break her heart." She shook her head. "I just can't believe he's gone."

"He won't be the last, I fear," Tyrael said grimly. "If we fail in our task, the coming storm will wipe humanity from the face of this earth."

"Then we won't fail," Leah vowed. "For Baal's sake, and Uncle Deckard's, and everyone else who has lost their lives, we'll win this war!"

* * *

Over the next several days, Saiya embarked on an intensive study of the Barbarians, spending every waking moment watching them to learn their habits in the hopes of finding some weakness she could exploit to her advantage. She learned the names of most of the group: the female leader was Freja, the old healer was Einar, the boy was Ingemar, and his father Halvar. Fiske was the blonde one with the nasty temper. Carr was the redhead (and Freja's brother, she was reasonable sure). The one with the limp was either Bjorr or Bjorn, and his twin brother Balder was missing his nose.

She picked up a decent amount of their language as well. _Kon_ was horse, _kone_ when pluralized. _Ranajky_ was the first meal of the day, and _vecera_ the last, with _obed_ falling in between. _Zajatci_ was the word that they used for their captives; this was modified for each of them, so that Saiya, to her embarrassment, became _tehotná,_ the 'pregnant one'. Caesar was _samec,_ and Ghor was _tmajev pleti._

Freja was usually the first one up in the morning, and would rouse her followers with a cry of _"Postav sa!",_ which Saiya took to mean, 'Get up!', or something similar. The giant woman was quick to deal out blows and, if the tone of her voice was anything to go by, harsh criticisms when her orders were not immediately followed. For their part, her men seemed to regard her with a mixture of respect, admiration, and amusement. Her control over the group was absolute, and there was never any sign of rebellion, but Saiya caught many eye rolls and sarcastic mutterings when her back was turned.

As for the precise nature of the relationships between the various Barbarians, Saiya was beginning to suspect that many of them were related, making it more of a tribal unit than a raiding party. Halvar was Ingemar's father, as she knew, but he also appeared to be in a sexual relationship with Freja – a fact that Saiya found puzzling on account of the obvious age gap between the two. Freja looked to be in her late twenties at the most, far too young to have a teenaged son, so the young monk could only conclude that her involvement with the far older Halvar had begun after the boy's birth. This theory was further supported by Freja's treatment of Ingemar: out of all the men, she bullied him the most.

The one that Saiya had the most contact with was, of course, Einar the healer. As the days wore on, she found that, despite his brusque attitude, he had a softer side. As well as tending to her physical needs and monitoring her health, he had taken on the role of her protector. Saiya was very glad of this, as she had noticed more than one of the men eyeing her in a way that made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Fiske was the worst, leering openly and even trying to touch her on more than one occasion, but Einar was always there to rebuff him with an angry glower. Saiya hated to develop positive feelings towards _any_ their captors, but she couldn't help liking Einar, just a little bit.

Unfortunately, opportunities to escape were few and far between. The Barbarians had them under guard at all times, and usually kept them separate so that they had no chance to plot. If they made camp in a defensible position, such as a cave or gully, the captives were always tucked away at the back, but if they slept on open ground, they were placed at the center of the ring. During the day they rode northwards at a steady pace, with few breaks even for food. After a week had passed, Saiya estimated that they traveled over two hundred miles, which would put them beyond Entsteig and well into the Dreadlands, where no friendly civilization existed.

The weather grew colder, and the landscape more inhospitable the further they traveled. On the eighth morning, Saiya awoke to find her blanket covered in a thin dusting of snow. The group, camped under an overhang of rock, had huddled closer during the night for warmth, and she was squished between Einar and the black-bearded man whose name, she thought, was Elof.

That day, she could not stop shivering, and Einar removed his heavy furs and wrapped them around her as they rode. She stammered out a confused, _"Vd'aka,",_ which meant 'thank you', and he shrugged. The drop in temperature did not seem to affect him one way or the other.

"We have to get away from them soon, if we're to have any chance of surviving in this climate," Caesar whispered to her that night. It was one of the rare occasions when they had been permitted to sleep next to one another, though Ghor was on the other side of the fire, snuggled next to Jory. His attachment to her had its upsides, as she had explained to them the previous day; the man generated an incredible amount of warmth.

"I know," Saiya whispered back, "but how exactly do you propose to do that? I've been racking my brain for days, and I've concluded that it's impossible for all of us to break free at once."

"What about the bell?" he asked. "Could you not wipe them all out at once?"

"I've thought about it, and I'm not confident that it would work. I might be able to kill a decent number of them, but the others would surely finish me off."

"Not if we attacked together – your bell and my ice magic."

"And if they threaten Ghor again, as they did the first time? No, Caesar, it's far too risky. Better to sneak away without their knowing."

The wizard snorted. "Well, _that's_ not going to happen. Not all of us at once … but one person might be able to manage it, if the other two created a diversion."

Saiya narrowed her eyes. "Good idea. Ghor and I will distract them tomorrow morning at breakfast, and you can run for it."

"Very funny, Saiya," he snapped. "You know I was talking about you."

"And I refuse. Come on, you're the logical choice. They're not as interested in you, so they're less likely to try and hunt you down. And that way, you can come back for us when they least expect it."

"I don't like it," said Caesar, and Saiya replied, "You don't have to. You just have to do it."

That earned a quiet chuckle from him. "You sounded identical to Baal just then," he said. "Gods, would you believe that I actually miss him? There was a time when I would have given anything to get him out of my life, but now I wish he was here. It's strange …"

In the darkness outside the circle of firelight, one of the horses whinnied. The Barbarian on guard duty (Fiske) called out, _"Budte ticho, kone."_

A bolt came whistling out of the nowhere and struck him in the shoulder. He fell back with a roar of pain. Seconds later, another projectile appeared from the opposite side of the camp, though this one clattered harmlessly off a rock and landed in the fire.

The camp erupted into chaos. Fiske's howls woke the others, and they immediately leaped into action, grabbing whatever weapon lay at hand and charging into the night. Only Einar remained behind, kneeling beside his wounded companion.

"Looks like we've got friends," Saiya murmured. "Caesar, can you do anything to get these ropes off me?"

"Roll over onto your side," he instructed, and did the same himself, so that they were lying back to back with their hands touching. Saiya felt something cold slide along her wrist: the wizard's icy blade. The pressure of her bonds released.

Her arms were stiff and sore from the length of time that they had been confined behind her back, with few reprieves. The ropes had been tight, though not constrictive, and there were deep furrows in the skin of her wrists. She massaged them to return mobility, gathering her strength for the fight to come. Caesar, meanwhile, had crawled around the fire to release Ghor.

" _Freja!_ _Zajatci sú voľní!"_ cried Einar, having noticed them. He rose and came towards Saiya, and she scrambled to her feet, snatching a branch out of the fire. The old healer balked at the burning wood she was waving in his face.

" _Pokojne, dievca,"_ he said, hands held out in front of him as if he was trying to calm a wild animal. _"Nemienim ti ublížiť."_

"Stay away from me, Einar!" she yelled, motioning with her hand for him to retreat. "Please, I don't want to have to hurt you! Stay-" An arrow embedded itself in the back of Einar's thigh. He stumbled forward and fell to his hands and knees. Thinking quickly, Saiya reversed the branch and smashed the non-flaming end against his temple, knocking him out cold.

A low rumbling sound filled the air, temporarily drowning out the Barbarians' angry shouting. Saiya looked up to see a miniature avalanche careening down the hillside towards her. She dove out of the way just in time. The rocks rolled through the fire, extinguishing it in a burst of sparks, and rattled onwards.

"Caesar!" Saiya screamed, blinking furiously to clear her vision. "Ghor! Are you two alright?"

A pile of scree shifted as Caesar sat up. He had thrown himself on top of Ghor, erecting a shield of ice to prevent them from being crushed. "We're fine," he reported.

Sighing in relief, Saiya was about to head into the fray when a shadowy figure loomed up in front of her. She recognized Freja by the horns on her helmet, a mark of her rank. There was just enough burning debris scattered around for Saiya to see that she was bleeding in several places.

With a wordless growl, she raised the enormous broadsword she carried. Saiya reached for the bell, feeling it pulse strong and sure through her bones and out in a wave of holy light. But the other woman brought her blade down in a swift arc, and the bell's energy _parted_ , split in two, diverging around her like the flow of water around a pointed stone. Saiya gaped in amazement.

Freja charged, wielding the heavy blade as effortlessly as if it was a feather. Saiya rolled towards her, underneath its swing, and kicked her in the small of the back. She turned, the point of the sword sweeping across the ground and up, showering Saiya with dirt and embers from the fire. She yelped and slapped her hands rapidly over her body to brush away the hot coals.

Clearly, this was not a fight she could win with brute strength alone. A quick glance at Caesar told her that he was occupied with fending off Jory, who had come running back to defend his prize. The wizard's control over his arcane reserve was apparently still uncertain; even the small amount of magic he had performed seemed to have weakened him. He would not be able to help her.

Freja swung again. The tip of her sword grazed Saiya's chest, slicing through her coat and scoring a line above the tops of her breasts. She stepped backwards, hoping that if she drew out the battle for long enough, one of her mysterious allies would come to her aid.

After several more close calls, however, she concluded that it was too dangerous to play games. Each successive time Freja missed served only to enrage her more. Finally the Barbarian launched a spinning attack so devastatingly fast that Saiya had no time to dodge. She warped instead, though the edge still caught her a glancing blow on the arm.

She had only traveled three feet, but her foe had not been expecting it. She halted as if in confusion, glancing around to see where Saiya had gone. It was all the opportunity that the young monk needed. Sprinting forward, she jumped in a high kick, warping again as soon as her heel made contact with Freja's jaw. The second attack came from behind – an elbow to the back of the head – and the third was a double punch to the stomach from the ground.

To Freja's credit, she adapted very quickly to Saiya's innovative method of attack. The next time the monk flickered into being, it was to find herself facing a sword thrust. She twisted just in time to avoid being skewered, but as she landed, pain blossomed across her stomach. She gasped, clutching at the wound and feeling slick wetness beneath her palm.

She had always wondered what happened in Baal's mind when his eyes blazed crimson and he lost himself in the heat of battle. Now she understood. A single thought dominated her mind – _this woman tried to hurt my baby –_ and suddenly the only thing that mattered was killing her as quickly as possible. She sprang towards Freja, warping away from her counterattack, reappearing to the left, and instantly warping again.

Her ploy worked perfectly. Freja, taken in by the feint, lunged towards the first location. A moment later, Saiya's fist, imbued with all the power she could pour into it, crashed into the side of her head. She collapsed on the ground. Saiya knelt down and grasped her fallen enemy's head in both hands, preparing to snap her neck. To her astonishment, Freja grabbed her wrists. The Barbarian's grip was weak, but Saiya reluctantly had to admire the sheer strength of her willpower. It was almost a shame to end the life of such a warrior.

"Saiya, no!" a voice cried. Someone grabbed her shoulders, wrenching her away from her intended victim. She looked up to see Lyndon.

"Let me go!" she snarled, trying to struggle free of his hold. "I'm going to kill her, let me _go_!"

"I can't allow that, darlin'," said the rogue. "She's our get-away plan."

"What are you talking about?"

"If we have their leader, they won't stop us from leaving," he explained, "but for that to work, she needs to be alive. You can finish her off later, if you really want to, but for now, just do as I say. Alright?" Cupping his hands around his mouth, he bellowed, _"Je koniec! Váš vodca padol! Ihneď sa vzdajte!"_

"You speak Barbarian?" Saiya exclaimed. He winked at her.

"I was friends with a lass from the northern tribes," he said. "She was an _excellent_ teacher."

"You took your time, didn't you," interjected Caesar, who had come over to join them. "Where the hell have you been, Lyndon?"

Lyndon sketched an exaggerated bow, flourishing his hand. "My deepest apologies, your majesty, for not effecting my daring rescue a little sooner, in the face of eleven-to-one odds. Whatever possessed me to be so inconsiderate?"

"Alright, no need to get your feathers all ruffled," Caesar grumbled. "Who are the others?"

"What others?"

"Your backup, of course. There's no way you did this all by yourself. There were arrows coming from all directions."

Lyndon laughed. "And yet … I did! It's not difficult if you use your brain, my dear fellow. Set up a few traps, trigger them at the appropriate time, and hey presto! A multi-pronged attack."

"Pretty clever," Caesar admitted grudgingly. "I still don't understand why you had to wait over a week."

"Well, I assure you it wasn't for the pleasure of camping out in this glorious weather. If you really must know, I timed it so that we would have the minimum distance to travel before we could reach a settlement. If you think for a minute that the Barbarians won't be pursuing us-"

"They won't if we kill them all."

"But that's so barbaric! Oh, I see, it's a 'do unto them' thing. Sorry, but I prefer my way. Your dealings with these people have been unfortunate, I admit, but on the whole I've found members of their race to be very likeable, and certainly not deserving of indiscriminate death."

While they were arguing, Saiya had been examining her wounds. They were not very serious, especially compared to some she had suffered in the past. The gash on her left bicep was quite deep, and the angle from which it had been inflicted had left a flap of skin hanging loose. She thought it would probably need stitches to prevent it from reopening constantly. Thankfully, the other two were mere scratches.

Ghor had gathered some of the fire's remains and lit several lanterns. By their light, they bound Freja's hands and feet securely. Lyndon fetched a horse, and he and Caesar between them lifted the unconscious woman over its back.

 _"Vráť veci, ktoré si zobral,"_ the rogue instructed the Barbarians, who were gathered several yards away, glaring at them. Muttering angrily, they searched through their belongings for the various things they had taken and tossed them on the ground. Ghor collected them all, handing Caesar his wand, and Saiya her brass knuckles, golden bell, and circlet. Her coffee, regrettably, had been consumed days ago.

"I saved your packs as well," said Lyndon, "since they left those behind. Nothing I could do about our tents, but luckily for us, our destination is only a day's ride away."

They mounted horses: Saiya and Caesar on one, and Lyndon and Ghor astride another. The rogue held the reins for both his steed and the animal that bore Freja's weight.

" _Pocúvajte!"_ he announced. _"Ak nás nebudete prenasledovať, sľubujem, že vášmu vodcovi neublížime a pustíme ho, keď sa dostaneme do Brala zbabelcov."_

"What did you tell them?" Saiya inquired as they began to ride away.

"I said that if they didn't follow us, we would release their leader unharmed once we get where we are going."

"And where's that? Entsteig?"

"Oh no," said Lyndon. "No, we're going to Bastion's Keep."

* * *

 **As before, I'm not going to offer a translation for the Barbarian language, though one is available by request. :) Also, I'd like to thank Wryxinka for stepping up to give me a hand with the Slovak (read: doing all the hard work for me ;D)  
**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading, and I'd love to know what you think! 'Til next time, hopefully a little sooner ... :/**


	4. 4 - Blood in the Snow

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part Three: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Oh little black bird_  
 _On my wire line_  
 _Dark as trouble_  
 _In this heart of mine_  
 _Poor little black bird_  
 _Sings a worried song_  
 _Dark as trouble_  
 _'Til winter's come and gone_  
 _So long now I've been out_  
 _In the rain and snow_  
 _But the winter's come and gone now_  
 _A little bird told me so."_  
 _\- Gillian Welch_  
 _"Winter's Come and Gone"_

* * *

Chapter Four: Blood in the Snow

 _Eight days earlier …_

The woods were very still and silent, hushed by a thick blanket of snow. The only sound came from Baal's labored breathing as he trudged through the frigid, knee-high waters of a small creek. His feet had gone numb minutes ago, but it was a small price to pay for his life. He only hoped that the water would mask his scent enough to throw the yetis off his trail.

His escape from Sescheron had been nothing short of miraculous. As soon as Adria's treachery had sunk in, he'd run for the stairs leading up the courtyard wall, ducking and dodging, expecting at any moment to feel claws tearing into his back.

He was nearly there when a ragged chunk of ice, hurled by one of the creatures, caught him in the side with bruising force. Unbalanced, he staggered sideways and was instantly set upon by the nearest yeti. It pinned him beneath one massive hand, kicking at him with its stubby hind legs. The Hunter reflexively curled into a ball to prevent it from disemboweling him.

Gawahir swooped screeching from above and fluttered about the monster's face, attacking with beak and talons. The crushing weight of the yeti lessened a little as it reared up to meet this new menace. Baal took advantage of the momentary reprieve to grope for his crossbow and put three bolts into his foe's unprotected neck. He scrambled away before it could fall on him, limping up the stairs. There was a searing pain in his leg, but he ignored it and forced himself to move faster. From the top of the steps, he looked down to see a large number of yetis bounding after him.

There was only one thing to do, and he did it. Taking a deep breath, he flung himself from the ramparts, landing with a _flump_ in several feet of snow and rolling down a steep embankment. The impact winded him, but didn't seem to have broken any bones. He picked himself up and hobbled into the forest, which came clear up to the castle walls. Almost immediately, he realized that he was leaving a blood trail that a novice could follow; it ran freely down his injured leg and stained his footprints crimson.

And that was how he came to be wading through a stream while Gawahir huddled on his shoulder and crooned into his ear. It was unlike the bird to be so affectionate, and Baal wondered wryly what that said about his condition. Surprisingly, he didn't feel as bad as he probably should. The icy water acted as a crude anesthetic, and the adrenaline flowing through his veins kept his fatigue in check. Even so, he knew he would need to rest soon.

When he was certain that he had lost any pursuers he might have, he left the creek and began looking around for a good hiding place. Eventually he found a natural lean-to where a large fir grew beside two boulders. The tree's branches brushed the ground, forming an enclosed space that was relatively dry. He crawled inside, gritting his teeth to suppress a groan.

Parting the needles overhead to give himself some light, Baal leaned back against the trunk and stretched his game leg out in front of him to assess the damage. It was difficult to see the wounds through his torn and bloodied pants, so he undid his belt and shimmied them awkwardly down past his knees. The situation brought back memories of Saiya tending to him after his fight with the khazra in the Tamoe Highlands. He smiled despite his discomfort, recalling how she had bullied him into undressing for her.

Well, that's how he chose to interpret it, anyway.

Any joyous feelings quickly dissipated, however, when he saw the full extent of his injuries. His right leg looked like something from a butcher's shop. There were so many lacerations that he was honestly surprised that any blood remained in his body. He could never hope to stitch them all, even if he had needle and thread.

Baal cast his mind back to all the survival training the Hunters had given him. The most important thing was to stop the bleeding. Cold was good, because it caused blood vessels to constrict and lowered the chances of infection setting in. On the other hand, too much cold – or prolonged exposure – could lead to hypothermia, which would kill him just as surely. On the other _other_ hand, ( _Does anyone have three hands?_ he wondered. And then, _stay focused, fuckwit. Now is not the time to get side-tracked by stupid things.)_ cold was all he had available, and therefore it would have to do.

Unclipping his cloak, he wrapped it tightly around the length of his leg, then raked in a pile of snow from outside his meager little shelter and banked it up around the outstretched limb. The chill was tolerable, though he would have to keep an eye on it to make sure that he wasn't developing frostbite.

For the time being, he'd done all he could. His survival now would depend solely on his body's capacity for healing on its own. It was highly improbable that anyone would find him here, so once he was strong enough to walk, he'd have to make his way back to Bastion's Keep on foot.

But first, sleep. Baal closed his eyes, comforted by Gawahir's small warmth tucked under his arm. His last thought as consciousness left him was of Saiya.

* * *

As they rode, Lyndon regaled them with the tale of his adventures since they were parted, which Saiya suspected were highly exaggerated in his favor. She was willing to believe that he had, on the night of their capture, walked until he was nearly dead on his feet in order to catch up with them, but the part of the story where he fought off three ravenous wolves with his bare hands was a stretch of the imagination.

Regardless, they were all very glad to see him (even Caesar, though he refused to admit it). Saiya especially was relieved that he was alive and well, and told him so. Lyndon laughed at her concern, but she thought he looked secretly pleased.

It was slow going in the dark, but their pace was steady, and by the time the sky began to lighten, the outline of Bastion's Keep was visible on the horizon. It was an awe-inspiring sight: a fortress so vast and imposing that at first glance it could be mistaken for a mountain. Great walls of black stone rose up and up from the fields of snow, culminating in a proud central tower, from which a black-and-gold banner fluttered, visible even from miles away. There were smaller outposts and forts scattered all across the plain before it.

"Let us hope that we are received as allies," said Caesar.

Lyndon gave the wizard a sideways glance, saying, "Our friend here ought to help with that. Word has it that Commander Calderos is never averse to having a Barbarian prisoner."

"You said you were going to let her go," Saiya reminded him.

"Yes, well. If I hadn't, they never would have let _us_ go."

"I must say," muttered the wizard, "I find it hard to muster any sympathy for our former slave master. Let the Bastion's Keep men lock her up if they so desire. Maybe a bit of time behind bars will teach her some manners."

"The Barbarians' concept of good manners differs greatly from our own," remarked Lyndon. "For example, it is the height of civility to engage in a fistfight with someone whom you have only just met. They value strength and courage above all else, and despise weakness and mercy more than most crimes. But they make staunch allies, if you can manage to win their loyalty."

Caesar yawned hugely. The lack of sleep was wearing on him; his eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders drooped. "As fascinating as this is," he said, "might I suggest that we move on now? I'd like to be in a warm bed before noon."

Saiya thoroughly agreed with that statement, but she could not help feeling a little guilty as she glanced at Freja's unconscious form, draped over the back of her horse. She would have preferred that Lyndon honored his side of the bargain. The Barbarian leader was an enemy, certainly, but she had not treated them cruelly. And she was a force to be reckoned with in combat; Saiya had never dreamed that anyone might be able to cut through a blast from her bell. Now that her adrenaline-fueled rage had worn off, she had to admit that the fight had been exciting. Remembering with shame her intention of murdering her defenseless opponent, she felt a glow of gratitude towards Lyndon for having interfered.

At the first checkpoint, they were stopped and questioned by a handsome young captain who seemed to be compensating for his youth with aggression. He was suspicious of their story of escaping from a Barbarian raiding party (which admittedly sounded a little unlikely to anyone who didn't know them) and demanded that it be told over and over again by every member of the group, while he pounced on any inconsistencies like a cat who'd spotted a juicy mouse. Eventually he agreed to let them pass, though only after they surrendered all their weapons and submitted to a thorough search of their belongings and persons.

As they were escorted across the several miles of barren ground before the fortress, Saiya gradually realized that the fields were not flat, as she had assumed upon first glance, but rather pitted with holes and trenches and covered in walls of hard-packed snow. This area, the soldier guiding them explained, was the first line of defense against any invasion. Every square foot of it was designed to make it as difficult as possible for an army to reach the actual walls of the Keep.

The young monk also noticed that the various fortifications were literally swarming with men carrying boxes, cleaning equipment, and inspecting supplies. "There's an awful lot of activity going on, for a place that must not see action very often," she remarked to Caesar in an undertone. "You'd almost think that they're preparing for something big."

"I see what you mean," he muttered back. "Perhaps the Barbarians have been making trouble lately?"

The soldier must have heard them, for he turned and said, "Barbarians? Oh no, sir, no. It's not _them_ we're worried about."

"What then?" asked Caesar. The soldier openly stared.

"Well mayhaps you haven't heard, sir, having been out in the wilds for so long, but we've had warning of a great demon army building up in old Arreat. They say-" and he lowered his voice and glanced around, as if afraid of being overheard. "-they say that Azmodan himself is their commander."

Caesar paled. "Azmodan?" he repeated, glancing at Saiya. "What can it mean? Two of the Great Evils, appearing in our world within a month of one another. I don't like it."

Saiya's thoughts were taking her down a different track, a faint suspicion growing in her mind. "You say you've had warning," she said. "From whom?"

"Some young girl had a vision about it, apparently," he replied. "The Commander didn't believe her at first, but Captain Haile convinced him to send out some scouts to the mountain, and sure enough, the damn place was swarming with demons. We're expecting the attack to come any day now, but don't you fine folks worry none. There's no place in Sanctuary that's safer than right here behind these walls."

"Very comforting," grumbled Lyndon.

They were now at the very base of the outer wall. Leaving the horses in the care of the stable hands, and Freja with a group of guards, they followed their guide up a broad ramp that led up to the ramparts. Lyndon looked askance at it.

"Most secure fortress in the world, my ass!" he exclaimed. "Suppose your enemy reaches this point, what's to stop them from walking right in?"

"See that winch up there?" the soldier said, pointing to the top of the ramp. "Crank it, and the whole thing drops into the ground. It's as I told you, sir, this fortress is impregnable. Why, we could hold out for _years_ in a siege."

Lyndon grunted skeptically. As they ascended the ramp, Caesar leaned closer to Saiya and said, "I'll wager they've never had to contend with a Lord of Hell before."

Once on the battlements, they were able to truly appreciate the immense size of Bastion's Keep. The wall they were standing on was only one of many, with flat expanses of roof in between.

"This is what we call the Skycrown," said their guide, gesturing around. It was easy to see why; they were up so high that Saiya felt as if by stretching she run her hand through the clouds.

"And over yonder is the Stonefort," he continued, pointing to the lower levels. "Most of our big weaponry is stored there: catapults and so forth, which we can raise or lower as needed. But come this way, good people, and I'll get you situated in the commons. There's another group of refugees what arrived just yesterday, so you'll have lots of company."

Saiya could tell by Caesar's expression that he resented being referred to as a 'refugee'. She rested a placating hand on his shoulder as they walked down a staircase and across a drawbridge (which crossed a gap that bisected the fortress, some hundred feet deep), and through a mighty gate.

They found themselves in a poorly lit hall filled with smoke from pipes and cooking fires. The smells of roast meat, ale, and sweat mingled to produce a pungent odor, and Saiya, whose stomach had grown a lot more sensitive now that she was pregnant, felt immediately nauseous.

The soldier led them over to a series of tables packed with men in uniform, devouring their first meal of the day with a hunger that only back-breaking work produces. He stopped in front of a heavyset man with a unpleasant scowl and a large mustache that drooped down over the corners of his mouth.

"Commander," he said. "Lieutenant Clyfton sent me to report a new group of refugees. He disarmed them already, sir, but he wanted to send them in for your approval."

Commander Calderos regarded them with all the appreciation of a man who has discovered dung on the bottom of his boot, but Saiya did not return his disdainful stare. Her eyes were fixated on a familiar figure sitting across the table.

"Kormac!" she cried. "Is that you?"

The Templar's eyes shot up from the bowl of gruel he was contemplating. In an instant, he was on his feet and rounding the table to sweep Saiya up in an uncomfortably tight hug.

" _Schwesterchen!"_ he rumbled, kissing her soundly on each cheek. "It seems a lifetime since we last saw each other. How is it that you're here, of all places?" His gaze flickered over the rest of the group, and – though he tried hard to conceal it – Saiya could see disappointment fall like a veil over his face. "It is just you four?"

"I'm afraid so," she said, squeezing his arm. "Eirena remained in Caldeum to study." She didn't mention Baal.

Before Kormac could reply, Calderos sneered, "You are acquainted with these people, Kormac?"

"They are dear friends," said Kormac. "I fought with them in Kehjistan, against Belial. I can absolutely vouch for them." He gave Saiya a warm smile, which she returned whole-heartedly. She had missed him far more than she realized.

Calderos grunted unenthusiastically and signaled to a passing woman in an apron. "You there, fetch food for the newcomers, and be quick about it." He turned back to the adventurers. "You may stay, but you'll work for your keep. This isn't a charity. Can either of you fight?" This question was addressed to Caesar and Lyndon, but Saiya answered.

"We all can, sir."

His pale green eyes shifted over to her, giving her a deliberate once-over. He said, "Not under my command. I don't employ women to do a man's job. You'll do your hours in the kitchen or the infirmary, like the others."

"You would not speak so if you had seen Saiya in action, sir," protested Kormac. Saiya squeezed his arm again, this time in warning. She did not want to jeopardize their position in Bastion's Keep, no matter how much she disliked its commander.

"I will do my part," she said, with icy politeness, "regardless of where you choose to assign me, _sir_."

"Good," said Calderos. "Now, gentlemen, as I was saying …"

"Pay him no mind, little sister," muttered Kormac, guiding her and Ghor towards a seat at the table. "He's a fool who wouldn't know true talent if it fell on him from the sky. But enough of that, tell me how on earth you ended up here! It seems a ridiculous coincidence. You would be hard pressed to find a place further from the beaten track."

"So you would," said Saiya. "We're here by accident, actually. Our intended destination was Ivgorod … well, except for Lyndon, who meant to go to Entsteig. But we were ambushed by Barbarians in the Sharval Wilds and taken captive. Except for Lyndon. He managed to avoid them, and stayed on our trail for an entire week until he had an opportunity to liberate us. We took the Barbarian leader as a hostage to guarantee our safe passage and fled here. Which in retrospect may have been a mistake." She shot a nasty look at Calderos, who had finished handing out assignments and was swaggering away with his hands clasped behind his back.

"What about you, _rafiki_?" Ghor asked.

"Oh," said Kormac. "I'm here as part of a unit that was dispatched by the Templars as reinforcements. We got here only yesterday. It's difficult to swallow, isn't it – another Great Evil right on the heels of Belial. I fear for the future of our world."

A youngish man with sandy blonde hair who was sitting across from Saiya said, in a thick western accent, "So, Kormac, these are the heroes you've been talking about?"

" _Ja,"_ he replied. "Francis, this is Saiya, the Iron Wind, and Ghor, a healer. Over there are Caesar and Lyndon."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, ladies," said Francis. His tone was friendly, but there was something about his eyes that set Saiya's nerves on edge. There was an almost manic light in them, which could be interpreted by a generous person as boyish excitement. She thought it closer to zeal.

"Likewise," she said, extending a hand across the table. Francis took it in a firm grip and shook once.

"I have heard so much about you," he said. "We could not get Kormac to shut up for weeks after he returned home! You seem to have made a very great impression on him. But," he continued, turning to Ghor, "I do not recall him mentioning you. I wonder why that would be? Surely, you are as pleasant in temperament as you are to look at."

"If I did not speak of Ghor as much as the others," interjected Kormac, with an apologetic glance as the witch doctor, "is it because she spent much of her time tending to the wounded."

"A vocation no less noble than that of a warrior," said Francis. "But perhaps Kormac does not think so."

"I meant simply that I did not get to know her as well…" The Templar was obviously floundering, caught in some net that Saiya did not fully understand, though she suspected it had something to do with his order's prejudice against voodoo. She made up her mind to ask him later, in private, if Ghor was in any danger.

"Of course," said Francis, with a sweet smile.

The serving woman returned with a tray laden with bowls, which she set on the table beside Saiya. The young monk thanked her, noting the surprise that flashed across her face as she bobbed a curtsy and hurried away with her head down. Clearly, she was unused to basic courtesy.

The gruel was bland and lumpy, but she did her best to force it down, knowing that her body was starved for nutrients. It was not long, however, before she had to excuse herself and ask directions to the latrine. When she returned, pale-faced and shaky, Kormac was looking deeply concerned.

"Ghor says that you have been unwell," he murmured, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to check for signs of fever.

"It's nothing to worry about," she replied. "Is there a place I could lie down for a while? I'm really tired."

"Come with me, love," said Caesar, who by this time had joined the others at the table.

"Alright," Saiya said. Then, catching a glimpse of his face, she frowned. He looked dreadful. "Are you okay? Maybe _you_ should be the one lying down."

"I'm …" He was unable to finish the sentence. His hands, clenched at his sides, were trembling. Saiya, beginning to feel thoroughly alarmed, allowed him to lead her towards the other side of the hall, where a number of cots had been laid out, divided by flimsy screens of wood and cloth.

"Seriously, what's the matter?" she hissed as he pulled her into an alcove out of the general line of sight. "If this is about that asshole commander, don't-"

"Saiya." Quiet and broken, nearly a sob.

"Caesar, _what_? You're scaring me."

"Love, I … I don't know how to tell you this." The last time she had heard him sound so distraught, Ghor had been dying of a stab wound. "I found out … I know where Baal went after he left Caldeum."

"Where?"

"He came here."

Saiya's heart was pounding as if trying to escape from her chest. "He's here?" she repeated. "Baal's here at Bastion's Keep?"

"He was, yes."

It took a moment for the past tense to set it. "Was?"

"Just over a week ago, he took part in an expedition to the old Barbarian city of Sescheron, in search of some magical weapon to use against Azmodan. Saiya … he didn't come back."

* * *

Baal felt as though his skin was on fire. He had lost track of how many days he had lain beneath the skirt of fir branches, alternately sweating and shivering with fever. Gawahir brought him food: chiefly the kind of nuts and berries that a late autumn forest provided, but occasionally a squirrel or young rabbit, which he ate raw, not having the tools necessary to start a fire. Every so often he crawled down the hill to the creek and drank as much water as he could manage, but those trips were becoming less and less frequent the weaker he grew, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would be unable to move at all.

It was a stupid way to die, after everything he had come through. It was inevitable that he would be killed on the job – all Demon Hunters were, sooner or later – but he hadn't thought it would be like this, wasting away in some godsforsaken corner of the world, away from everyone he loved. ( _Except Gawahir,_ he thought, running a hand over the raven's back. Gawahir did not like to be petted as if he was a common housecat, but he endured it with only a harsh croak to show his displeasure.)

It was Saiya whose absence Baal regretted most. He saw now what a mistake it had been to leave her behind. He'd thought he was protecting her, but what he had really been protecting was his own foolish heart. Ever since the beginning of their relationship, he had been telling himself that it was a fairytale story, that it couldn't possibly last, that she would grow to hate him once she realized his true nature. He was not made for love. He was made for vengeance and shadows.

But the little monk, bless her heart, had seen the worst of him and refused to turn away. They argued frequently, which at first he took as a sign that they were not compatible for a long-term romance, but Baal was beginning to understand something about himself: he got along fine with people that he liked and respected, and ignored those he didn't, but when he met someone whose approval he truly craved, he fought with them ceaselessly, as if trying to prove himself worthy of their regard.

This quirk of his personality was hidden so deep and so well that he himself hadn't been aware of it until the night that Caesar approached him in the Dahlgur Oasis, after Saiya's life-threatening snake bite, and offered his hand in friendship. At the time, Baal couldn't wrap his mind around the incredible satisfaction he had felt at having finally formed some meaningful connection with the wizard – a man he'd have sworn up and down he despised earlier that day. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that what had rankled most about Caesar was how much he reminded Baal of his older brother, Shadi.

Shadi, who never had a kind word to say.

Shadi, who bullied him mercilessly at every opportunity.

Shadi, who went out of his way to take over anything that Baal showed an interest in.

Shadi, who Baal had hated and loved and wanted to be like.

Somehow, his complicated feelings about his brother had gotten transposed onto Caesar, the two becoming blurred in his mind. He had never been able to resist needling Shadi, no matter how much he suffered for it, and it was the same with Caesar. But what he longed for, what he had wanted from the start even though he pretended otherwise, was to be acknowledged. _You exist. You matter. You have value, not just as a weapon, but as a human being._

It was a bliss and a burden that he hadn't known since his early childhood: to be important to someone for who he was rather than what he could do. It was what separated Saiya from all his former lovers. Rejina had needed him to protect her, but he couldn't protect her from himself. Marion needed him to provide comfort in a time of her grief, but she had no interest in the emotional baggage that he brought with him. And Vera most of all had needed him, to help her release the overwhelming darkness trapped inside of her. But they were poison to each other, sacrificing any chance of eventual healing for a brief respite from their pain.

Saiya wasn't like that. She accepted him the way he was, all sharp edges and deep cracks from being broken over and over again. She didn't try to change him to suit her own desires. And he had given her up voluntarily so that he would not be forced to do it.

"You fool," he mumbled. "You damn pathetic fool."

" _Who, me?"_ croaked Gawahir.

It was uncanny, sometimes, how close the raven came to approximating a real human conversation. It was certainly not conducive to maintaining his sanity, lying here half delirious with fever, talking with an overgrown crow.

"No, bird-brain. I'm talking about myself."

" _You fool,"_ Gawahir mocked, hopping back and forth.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks. Hey, got any more berries lying around? I'm pretty hungry."

" _Saiya!"_

"If you're trying to make me feel better, it isn't working."

" _Saiya, you fool!"_

Baal picked up a nearby twig and chucked it at him, wincing at how much effort even that tiny movement required. "Just shut the fuck up. She isn't here, okay? I _know_ it's my fault, I don't need you to remind me, you inconsiderate little bastard. Ow!" Gawahir had pecked him sharply on the hand. Cursing, Baal was searching around for something larger than a twig to use as ammunition when a warm glow, like sunlight pooling on the rocks by a riverside, filled his shelter. He looked up to see Saiya standing over him.

For several seconds, he couldn't speak. He felt as if something sharp had punctured his lungs. At last, he gasped, _"Nuur il'-en!_ What … what are you doing here?"

She merely smiled and knelt beside him. It was then that he noticed a slight transparency to her skin, and groaned in disappointment. She wasn't real. It was only a hallucination.

The vision of Saiya put its hands on his leg. A soothing coolness emanated from the point of contact, spreading over the entirety of the damaged limb. It was such a blessed relief that Baal nearly wept. He decided then that he didn't care whether or not he'd lost his mind. All that mattered was that the blinding agony was gone.

Her long, delicate fingers moved up to his forehead. She was chanting, a melodic quality to her voice. He recognized the words as the mantra that she had tried to revive Caesar with. Once she was finished, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his. Her phantom breath ghosted over him like mist.

" _Sleep, my love,"_ she whispered.

Baal slept.

The next time he opened his eyes, his head felt clearer than it had in days. With clarity, sadly, came a resurgence of his appetite, but he chose to take it as a sign that he was on the mend. Peeling back the sodden cloak to look at his leg, he found the wounds scabbed over and the skin its normal, healthy tan color, rather than the sickly grey it had been before.

Saiya, or whatever was assuming her shape, sat beside him, watching him with unblinking eyes and a tender smile. He experienced a moment of misgiving – he'd heard many cautionary tales of the strange spirits that dwelt in old forests. Some, it was said, would come to a dying man in the guise of his loved ones and restore him to good health, but haunt him for the remainder of his days, feeding on his lifeforce. But somehow, despite her silence, he didn't think that was the case. This _was_ Saiya, he could feel it, though he didn't understand how or why she was here.

She followed him as he stumbled down to the creek, radiant in the sunlight. His clothes reeked of sweat and blood, and he desperately needed a wash, but it was too cold for bathing. He contented himself with scrubbing his face and scraping the worst of his stubble off with the blade of his knife.

"Alright," he said to the apparition. "It doesn't look like you're going to leave me anytime soon. I need to get back to Bastion's Keep. Do you know the way?"

She nodded.

"Lead on, then."

All that day, the Hunter followed after that pale, shining figure as she glided ahead of him, bare feet barely brushing the ground. He spoke to her occasionally, partly trying to evoke a response, and partly just to hear the sound of a human voice. Saiya never responded, except with smiles and glances, but her very presence was heartening. That night, he painstakingly built a fire using rocks to create a spark, and roasted a quail Gawahir had caught. It tasted better than any meal he'd ever had.

He had only a rough estimate of the distance between Sescheron and Bastion's Keep, but at his rather slow pace, he guessed it would take him four or five days to reach the fortress. He was pleasantly surprised when, as dusk fell on the third day, an orange glow appeared on the horizon, near the skyline.

A fire, and quite a large one at that. Several minutes later, another sprang up, and another, forming a line. He recalled Captain Haile explaining that the men under his command used signal fires to communicate in the event of an attack on the Keep.

"So," he muttered. "It has begun."

He turned to look for Saiya, but she was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

" _She's been like this for three days now. I'm beginning to think that she'll never recover."_

" _It would not be the first time she has retreated into her own mind. With Kulle-"_

" _This is worse than Kulle. At least then she was sleeping and talking and … and_ moving, _for the gods' sakes! But she's just sitting there like an empty shell."_

" _She looks peaceful, at least."_

" _I shouldn't have told her."_

" _She would have heard from someone else, rafiki, if not from you. It was only a matter of time."_

" _Still, if I'd know this was going to happen … Ghor, what if she doesn't get better? How long can she last like this?"_

" _Years, if she has someone to attend her. I have seen it before, in extreme cases. In my village, there was a man who was born 'bila roho': without a soul. If he was led, he would follow. If he was fed, he would eat. But he was not capable of independent thought or action."_

"… _What about the child?"_

" _Her body is perfectly healthy. It is only her mind that is ill. The babe will continue to grow until it is ready to enter the world. But it will need a parent."_

" _I'll look after it. For her sake. For both their sakes."_

" _I am sorry, rafiki. I know how much you care for her."_

" _Am I that obvious?"_

" _No. But I know you like my own son."_

" _I promised myself that I wouldn't fall in love with her. And I tried so hard, I really did. I told myself that it wasn't right, that she wasn't mine to have. But in the end, I couldn't help myself. I've never met a woman like her."_

" _You are a good friend to her."_

" _Really? Would a friend watch her the way I do? Would a friend lust after her in secret, even though she's given her heart to another man? Would a friend-"_

" _You are too strict with yourself, Caesar. You are only a man, after all."_

" _Funny, she told me the same thing. I didn't believe it then, and I don't now. I can't accept 'human nature' as an excuse for wrongdoing. It's our ability to choose between good and evil that sets us apart from all other races, that fundamentally makes us what we are. Angels and demons were not granted that choice; they can only be true to their aspect. Oh, don't look at me as if I've sprouted a third arm. I understand why the angels are the way they are. It doesn't mean that I trust or like them."_

 _"Even Tyrael?"_

"Especially _Tyrael. I haven't- oh! Did you see that? I think she just blinked!"_

" _I did not see anything, rafiki. Are you certain that your eyes did not deceive you? You have not gotten enough sleep lately, perhaps."_

" _No, I'm not imagining things. She just did it again. Saiya! Saiya, can you hear me?"_

* * *

Saiya woke feeling utterly refreshed, as though she'd just had the best sleep of her life. The residual ache from being bound for days on end had vanished. The only thing that alarmed her was that her memory seemed to be a little fuzzy. They had gotten away from the Barbarians, thanks to a daring rescue by Lyndon, and had fled to Bastion's Keep. Kormac had been there, and there were rumors of a Great Evil – Azmodan, she thought – building an army in the Arreat Crater, and the commander had already proven himself an insufferable jackass. And after that …?

"Saiya!" Someone was urgently calling her name, warm hands gripping her own. She lifted lids as heavy as rock and found herself gazing into storm-grey eyes.

"Caesar?" Her voice was a hoarse croak, like a rusted gate being forced open.

There were tears running down his face, but he laughed as he pulled her into an embrace. Peeking over his shoulder, she saw Ghor, beaming at her.

"What's going on?" she asked, disengaging from the wizard's arms. "You two are looking at me like I've come back from the dead. I've just been asleep."

"For three entire days!" blurted Caesar. Ghor sighed, shaking her head at him, and he said, "Sorry. You're right, I should take it easy."

Saiya was baffled. "Take what easy? Have I really slept for three days? I must have been exhausted!"

"Uh," Caesar hedged, glancing at the _sangoma_ as if asking permission to continue. "You haven't exactly been sleeping, love. Tell me, what's the last thing you remember?"

"We had arrived at Bastion's Keep. They let us in, but took our weapons away. We were shown around and given food. We ran into Kormac in the dining hall. I had to go throw up, and when I got back, you said that you needed to talk to me. And then …" She frowned. "You told me that Baal is dead."

The words hung in the air, spinning a net of silence between them. It was Ghor who spoke first.

"The shock of it caused you to fall into a coma," she said, looking at Saiya with eyes full of compassion. "We feared that you would never wake."

"A coma?" she repeated. "No, that's not it … I was walking far away."

"What do you mean?" said Caesar. "You haven't moved from this spot. I should know: I haven't left your side." Then he blushed, as if embarrassed by his admission. Saiya tactfully ignored it.

"Not my body," she explained, stumbling over the bizarre concept she was trying to convey. "It was more like my consciousness. Or … or my soul. I don't know how I did it. All I remember is thinking, _'I have to find him',_ and then I was in a snowy forest. I couldn't feel the cold, even though I was barefoot, and I walked. I just kept walking, following … I don't know. My intuition, I suppose. And then I found him."

Caesar make a choked sound. "You found his body?"

"No," she said, "I found _him._ Caesar, Baal's still alive!"

* * *

 **I hope that all those changes in POV were not too confusing to everybody! Thank for reading, as always. :) I would love to hear all your feedback!  
**

 **Also, a quick shout-out to my guest in the military - if you're reading this, I'd like to thank for your kind words! I very much took them to heart, and you won't be hearing any more apologies from me for how long it takes me to finish new chapters. I would have responded to you in person if I could, but I just wanted to say thanks! :)**


	5. 5 - The Siege Begins

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part Three: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"I seek to cure what's deep inside_  
 _Frightened of this thing that I've become."_  
 _\- Toto_  
 _"Africa"_

* * *

Chapter Five: The Siege Begins

A stunned silence greeted this proclamation. Saiya could see incredulity written all over Caesar's face, warring with pity for dominance. It was clear that he did not believe her, and that he wasn't about to say so. She scowled at him; wasn't it enough for people like Commander Calderos to judge her weak because she was a woman, without her closest friends thinking that she'd lost her mind to grief?

"I'm not making this up," she said, "and it wasn't a dream. He _is_ alive, but badly wounded. His leg-" She shuddered, recalling the ravaged flesh. "I healed him as best I could, and led him back here. We were within sight of the wall, but then I woke."

"Well," said Caesar, "he's going to have a hard time getting in. Azmodan's armies have arrived. They've been laying siege to the Keep day and night. The ramp has been lowered, and the main gate barred. There's no way in or out now, not until this is over."

At that moment, a soldier ran in, boots clattering on the floor, and skidded breathlessly to a halt in front of them. "Master wizard!" he panted. "You're needed on the walls at once!"

Caesar nodded grimly. "Yes, of course. I'll be right there." To Saiya, he said, "I have to go, love. I'll find you later."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Saiya exclaimed. "I'm coming with you."

His eyes widened. "I'm not sure that's wise …"

"I can't allow that, ma'am," the soldier interrupted. "Commander's explicit orders were to escort all the refugees into the lower barracks. If you'll just come with me, I'll see that you get there safely."

"You'll do no such thing!" she snapped, incensed at the patronization. "I am not going to twiddle my thumbs in a lockbox while my friends fight for their lives outside."

The man, misunderstanding her badly, gave her an encouraging smile. "Oh, don't you worry, ma'am. I'm sure that you'll find something to do."

"Actually," said Caesar, before Saiya could follow through on her impulse to knock out the soldier's grinning teeth, "please don't hate me for saying this, but maybe you should sit this one out, Saiya. You are, after all-" He coughed delicately and gave her stomach a pointed glance. The young monk rolled her eyes.

"Really, Caesar? I had forgotten."

"Well, you're certainly acting like it."

"Hey," she growled, poking him aggressively in the chest. "We've been through a lot together, and I consider you a dear friend, but that doesn't give you the right to tell me what I can and can't do. And I definitely won't accept you treating me like some fragile maiden just because I'm pregnant."

Caesar turned to Ghor for assistance, saying, "Tell her it's a bad idea to go into battle in her condition! Maybe she'll listen to _you_."

Much to Saiya's surprise and annoyance, Ghor gave a thoughtful nod. "I am sorry, child," she said, "but I must agree with Caesar. It would be too great a risk."

"You see?" said the wizard. "I know you're proud, Saiya, and for good reason. But you've done your part, far more than anyone had a right to ask for. Let someone else handle it this time. Gods know that you've earned the right to rest."

He extended a hand to help her to her feet, but Saiya ignored him and rose, rather unsteadily, from the pile of blankets where she had been nested. Keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead, she brushed past her friend and joined Ghor and the soldier in heading for the doorway. Almost at once, she regretted her aloofness – after all, anything could happen. Suppose she never saw him again? – but they were already in the hall outside, and it was too late to go back. She whispered a brief prayer for his safety.

"You are angry with me, are you not?" Ghor murmured, as they headed down a long set of stairs.

Saiya sighed. "No. Just disappointed. I thought that you'd support me."

"In my village, we tell a story about a man who wished to cross a river inhabited by alligators," said Ghor. "He did not dare to swim, for fear of being devoured, and he had not the time to build a bridge. So he caught many fish, and dumped them all in a particular location downstream. Word of an easy meal spread quickly among the alligators, and before long, they had all congregated in that one place, leaving the rest of the river clear. The man swam safely across."

Saiya turned this odd story over in her mind, puzzling over the meaning. At last, she said, "I _think_ I understand. Sometimes you have to give people what they want, so that you can achieve your own goals."

The _sangoma_ smiled broadly. "Just so."

She considered the wisdom of this approach. It was not really her style; she preferred to fight, openly and with stubborn determination, for what she believed in, rather than saying one thing and doing another. But in this situation, arguing with the men in charge was about as productive as trying to batter down a castle gate with her head. Much better to slip in through the scullery door while they were looking the other way.

They were now in the lower barracks, a maze-like series of rooms and corridors at the heart of the Keep. The air was stale and musty, indicating a poor ventilation system, and the lighting was even more sporadic than in the commons above. Thirty-odd people were clustered together in one of the rooms, watched over by a group of bored-looking guards who were ostensibly there to protect them. Most of them were the servants, the women who cooked and cleaned, ranging in age from young girls to elderly women with bent backs and deformed knees from years of scrubbing floors. There was, however, a group of seven people that Saiya presumed to be the refugees in question. They consisted of a middle-aged couple and their two children, and three adult men. Saiya couldn't stop staring at the oldest, haunted by the disturbing feeling that she really ought to know his face. He was so thin that he bordered on skeletal, and wore a red skullcap. A long straggly beard covered his chin and neck.

"Who _is_ that man?" Saiya whispered in Ghor's ear. "I know I've seen him before."

"I am not surprised," Ghor replied. "That is Covetous Shen, a jeweler by trade. We saved his life in the Aqueducts."

"Oh," said Saiya. "Well, that would explain why I can't remember. What's he doing here?"

Ghor shook her head. "That, I do not know."

Curious, Saiya was approaching the old man when she was intercepted by one of the other refugees, who she had initially passed over as being uninteresting.

"I recognize you!" he exclaimed, a fawning expression plastered on his face. He reached out to her, but Saiya jerked away from him. This man, she was less than pleased to encounter.

"Oh, it's you," she said, imbuing the words with all the withering distaste she could muster. "You're a bit far from home, aren't you?"

Holus, former mayor of New Tristram, had fallen on hard times. Gone was the sleek politician who'd been more concerned with saving his own skin than defending his people. His expensive finery was now tattered and stained, and he smelled as though he hadn't bathed in weeks. The fat had melted from his face, leaving his jowls hanging like a rooster's wattle.

"My lady, how _marvelous_ to see you!" he gasped. "The town, does it still stand? I'm sure that Rumford told you that I went to Westmarch in hopes of mustering some aid. It was a long and dangerous journey, and unfortunately, I never reached my destination."

"Clearly," she said. "If you must know, New Tristram was saved after a long and bloody battle, and the risen dead returned to their graves, but Wortham was burned to the ground by Maghda. We lost a lot of good people."

"How tragic," said Holus. "They must be missing their mayor dreadfully!"

"I think they're just fine without you."

"But my dear girl, who is providing them with leadership and gentle guidance? They are only peasants, after all. They need someone to tell them what to do. And I think that we can both agree that old Rumford doesn't have it in him to take charge, eh?" He gave a repellent little chuckle, nudging Saiya's arm with his own as if they were both party to an amusing inside joke. The young monk felt a surge of hatred.

"How dare you?" she snapped. "You're not worthy to utter his name! You slimy, rotten little worm, you coward, you deserter! You didn't go for help, you cut and ran in the middle of the night because you were scared. You dare talk of _leadership_? If you'd been a better mayor, Peter might still be alive!"

The volume of her voice had been rising steadily, and now everyone in the room was openly staring. Holus, having wisely decided to back down, shrank against the wall. Saiya turned away from him in disgust, only to come face to face with Ghor.

"Calm yourself, child," she said. "You will make yourself sick if you carry on so." One of her eyelids twitched in the briefest of winks, so fleeting that Saiya wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it.

"What's going on here?" demanded one of the guards, strolling casually over. "Is this woman causing problems?"

"Please, I ask that you excuse my friend," said Ghor. "She is currently with child, and it is making her very emotional. Is there a place where she could lie down, away from the others?"

Saiya observing how the man's demeanor had changed the instant her pregnancy was revealed, gritted her teeth in anger. But she forced herself not to react as she normally would, remembering Ghor's advice. _They want me to be a delicate flower in need of care and pampering? Very well, then, that's exactly what I'll be._

"I do not _need_ to lie down!" she began to insist, but allowed her voice to quaver halfway through the sentence. Affecting extreme dizziness, she sagged sideways into the soldier, who caught her and held her upright.

"Easy does it, ma'am," he murmured. "I'll get you to a bed in the next room, where it'll be nice and quiet."

At least he didn't try to pick her up, Saiya mused as she shuffled along under his guiding arm. But she could barely keep from rolling her eyes when he solicitously pulled back the bedcovers and held her hand as she settled down. If he had been any of her male friends, and her weakness had been real, she would have found his careful attentions endearing, but she knew that his show of concern was as fake as her symptoms.

"I think someone ought to stay with her," he said. Ghor, who had followed them through from the other room, nodded.

"I will stay."

"Very good. I'll have someone check on you later, maybe bring some food. She looks like she could do with a solid meal, poor lamb."

"Fool," Saiya muttered under her breath as the man strutted away, proud of himself for having handled the situation. No doubt he thought that she would feel indebted to him later.

Ghor was laughing silently, a bright glimmer in her jet-black eyes. She said, "You were very convincing, _rafiki_. Perhaps you have missed your mark in life."

"How so?" Saiya asked.

"In Caesar's homeland, people with a gift for imitation dress up in costume and enact stories before an audience. They are called 'plays'. He has spoken of them many times."

Saiya was intrigued. "What sort of stories?"

"All sorts, I am told. Some are dramatic, some funny, others sad or frightening. Sometimes they tell of the life of a great hero from the past, sometimes they are entirely made up by a playwright, as a book would be. You should ask him about them later."

"If there ever is a later," said the monk, and instantly regretted her words as the mirth vanished from Ghor's face. "I'm sorry," she said. "What a stupid thing to say. Of course we're going to see him again."

"No, child, do not apologize," said Ghor. "We cannot know what the future will hold. We can only hope."

"I'll keep him safe," Saiya promised. "He's the first person I'm going to look for once I get up there."

"I believe you," said Ghor. "More, even – I did not say so before, but I know that you speak the truth about Baal. Your spirit was able to seek him out because of your love for him. It is a rare thing, for one untrained in the ways of a _sangoma_ to be able to spirit-walk."

Saiya grinned at her. "But I'm _not_ untrained. You showed me how to do it, remember? When we brought Caesar back from the Unformed Lands."

"So I did. But I suspect that even if I had not, your soul would have found his still. You were meant for each other, _washirika wa kiroho,_ as Jahaira and I are. Go now, I will remain here and stop them from searching for you."

Leaning forward, she kissed Saiya on the forehead, a blessing and a prayer in one. "Go!" she whispered, and Saiya did, running past the open archway into the other room, and out through a service door into the corridor outside. There was a patrol of guards approaching, and she ducked into a closet where brooms and buckets were kept. When they had rounded the corner, she snuck out again and continued in the direction she thought would take her up to the wall.

Her first order of business was to acquire some new clothes. Her Iron Wolf uniform would stand out from the rest of the Keep soldiers like a peacock among crows, and she could not afford to attract any attention.

Fortunately, one of the first chambers that she passed by contained racks of armor and weapons. Disrobing, she pulled on heavy leather trousers, a chainmail tunic, and a solid steel breastplate. Boots, gloves, and a helmet that concealed most of her face completed the set. There was no mirror in which to inspect herself, but from what she could tell, no one would be able to guess her true gender.

She grabbed a halberd, since her brass knuckles were unavailable, swinging it a few times to test the balance. It was heavier than she was accustomed to, but not unmanageable. The head monk had trained her in the use of polearms as well as close-combat techniques, and she had no doubt that she'd be able to hold her own.

It was then that she heard low voices coming from the next room, accompanied by the crackle of magic. She crept closer, weapon at the ready, muscles tensing in anticipation of a fight.

What she saw instead was Adria and Leah standing opposite each other, with the unmistakable shape of the Black Soulstone on a table in between them. Leah was applying a concentrated beam of red light to it, her small face screwed up in concentration.

"Ugh!" she gasped after a moment, and the beam dissipated. "I can't hold it any longer."

"You must," Adria said sternly. There was no trace of affection in her gaze as she took in her daughter's pale face and trembling arms. Leah was clearly exhausted, and Saiya wondered how hard the witch had been pushing her.

"I _can't_!" cried Leah, her voice cracking. "Mother, I can hear his voice in my head, whispering to me, drowning out my own thoughts. He wants me to release him."

"If you are incapable of controlling even a single Lord of Hell," snapped Adria, "how do you intend to cope with seven of them?" Her tone softened slightly, and she said, "It's a heavy burden, I know. If I could shoulder it for you, I would. But you must be strong, Leah. You cannot fail in this."

"I know," Leah said. She sounded close to tears. "I'll try harder, Mother."

"That's my girl," said Adria. For a heartbeat, a genuine smile touched her lips, and her severe features were momentarily transformed to a radiant softness. Then her eyes raised and landed on Saiya, standing half in shadow in the corner, and in a flash, the old Adria was back, leaving no trace of the kind woman she had just appeared to be.

"What are you doing down here?" she growled. Saiya froze, thinking that she had been recognized, but she relaxed again as Adria continued, "I explicitly told Calderos that we were not to be disturbed by _anyone_."

"S-sorry, Ma'am!" Saiya exclaimed gruffly, lowering her voice in her best impression of a man. "Wrong door. Won't happen again!" She threw up a snappy salute and hurried away before either of her former companions could realize who they were talking to.

Ascending the broad staircase to the commons, she pondered what she had just witnessed. Obviously, trapping Belial inside the stone was not as simple as Adria had led them to believe. It would appear that the demon was fighting for his freedom, and that for some reason, it had fallen to Leah to keep him in check. Saiya wondered why Adria herself couldn't do it, since her powers were much more developed than her daughter's.

She was only mildly surprised to see the two here – it would stand to reason that, since they had disappeared at the same time as Baal, they would have gone to the same place. She had always suspected as much. Presumably, Tyrael was also somewhere close by.

The commons had been converted into a temporary infirmary for the soldiers wounded in battle. There were not enough beds for all of them; some lay on blankets or heaps of straw, others still on the plain stone of the floor. The room was filled with their groans. Saiya walked through quickly, feeling as though she had already seen enough carnage to last a lifetime.

The main gate was cracked open to reveal the night sky. Gusts of snow-laced wind blew in from outside, searching out gaps in Saiya's armor with a malignance that seemed almost sentient. The first thing she noticed upon stepping out onto the ramparts was how _loud_ it was. Men shouting orders, screams of pain, the bestial roars of the demons, the clang of metal: all were audible even over the howling wind.

Looking around, she spotted a group of soldiers on a higher section of the wall, manning a large crossbow bolted to the stone. She hurried to join them, and in doing so, caught her first glimpse of Azmodan's army.

It filled the plains below, a roiling sea of black shapes lit by the burning watchtowers, packed so tightly together that the snow was barely visible in between. Saiya could only stare, open-mouthed. It was so much worse than she had ever imagined. There were thousands, _tens_ of thousands, as if all Hell had been emptied.

 _We're doomed,_ she thought bleakly. _We came to this place thinking it was a refuge, but instead it will become a mass grave for everyone foolish enough to stand and fight against such a foe._ And then, with an even greater sinking of her heart, _Baal's out there. He's somewhere on the other side of that horde, and Caesar was right: there's absolutely no way that he's going to make it through._

"Hey!" A voice split through her despairing thoughts. "Hey, you! Quit gawking and get up here! We could use a hand!"

The men at the crossbow had spotted her. Shaking off her momentary torpor, she jogged up to meet them. At least she could do something useful before her inevitable death.

Two of the soldiers were struggling to load one of the enormous bolts into the slot while the third turned a crank that pulled back the rope serving as a bowstring. Saiya grabbed the tip of the arrow and forced it into place with a sharp _click_.

"Target?" inquired the marksman.

A fourth man, telescope in hand, called out, "Siegebeast at forty-five degrees west!"

"Got it. Haul her round, boys!"

Everyone, Saiya included, threw their weight against the ballista, and it swung slowly to the right, until it was lined up with their intended target. The marksman pulled the trigger, sending the ten-foot bolt soaring gracefully through the air and into the giant demon's open mouth. It fell, shaking the ground with its impact, crushing a considerable amount of the smaller minions around it.

"Hurrah for Bulls-Eye!" cheered one of the men. "Great fucking shot, Tom!"

"That was pretty impressive," Saiya added. They all swiveled towards her at once, and her stomach dropped as she realized she had forgotten to disguise her voice.

"Ey, lad, I don't think I know you," said the marksman. "Are you one of the refugees?"

"Yes, I'm …" She cast hastily around for a name and seized on the first one that came to mind. "Peter. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise, Peter." He extended a hand, which Saiya shook. "They call me Bulls-eye Tom. This is my crew: Martin, Roebauf, and Kleppin, my spotter. You'll be taking the place of Sandy, who died earlier today."

Saiya frowned. She hadn't really intended to get stuck here, but at the same time, she was loath to abandon anyone who really needed her.

"Um, I have to ask … have you seen a wizard come through here? About my height, black hair, pointy hat. He'll be using ice magic."

"Can't help you, lad," said Tom, shaking his head.

"I need to find him."

"I'm sure he's fine," declared the man named Roebauf. "A wizard stands much higher chances of survival than us normal folk."

"Thanks, but I made a promise to someone that I'd take care of him."

"Look here," said Tom. "I won't force you to stay, but I will say this: we've all got people we want to protect, and the best way of making sure they stay safe is to do our duty, however we can. If those godless hellspawn get inside these walls, every one of us is dead, wizard or no. So you can go on your way and look for your friend, or you can stay and do your part to keep us all alive. What do you say, lad?"

Saiya saluted him and began to lift another bolt into the ballista. "I'll do my best, sir!"

Tom grinned. "Well, that's all we can ask for, really. Alright, boys, load her up! Let's show old Ass-modan where he can shove his army!"

The soldiers operated like clockwork, but Saiya soon found her place among the rhythm. She, Martin, and Roebauf would take a bolt from the pile and lock it into place, then turn the crossbow according to Tom's directions, whereupon he would fire, and then the process would repeat. After a very short time, it was clear how he had earned his title of 'Bulls-eye'; Saiya never saw him miss a shot.

The work was brutally hard, and before long her arms were aching and trembling with strain. Tom noticed and told her to sit down for a few minutes while the others made a trip to the armory to retrieve more bolts.

"You're doing good, lad," he said. "What part of the world do you hail from, then?"

"Ivgorod," she answered. "I trained as a monk in one of the temples there."

"Oh yeah? Mind your language, Kleppin, we're in the presence a holy brother." He grinned, showing crooked lower teeth, but there was no mockery in his tone. Saiya returned the smile.

"Don't hold back on my account. I judge a man by the quality of his cursing."

"Well, then," interjected the erstwhile silent Kleppin, "I'm proud to say that you'll find us to be the best damn regiment north of Entsteig."

"Which isn't saying much," laughed Tom, "since we're the _only_ damn regiment north of Entsteig, if you don't count the Barbarians."

"That reminds me," said Saiya. "A Barbarian woman was brought here as a captive a few days ago. Do you know what's become of her?"

"Oh aye," Tom grunted. "Commander put her up in one of the rooftop cages, along there. Reckon she'll be stewing in her juices by now, if she's still alive."

"That seems a harsh punishment."

His amiable brown eyes turned steely and cold. "Don't expect much sympathy from me, lad. My wife and kids were killed by a raiding party out of Arreat three years back. If I could, I'd take every one of those motherfucking bastards and string them up for the crows."

"I'm sorry about your family," Saiya murmured. It seemed the only appropriate response. In light of his past, she understood the man's animosity towards Freja, but still … she didn't like the idea of condemning an entire people simply because some of them were bad. That reeked of prejudice and small-minded thinking.

"Where in the hell have Martin and Roebauf got off to?" Kleppin grumbled. "They should have been back by now."

"I'll go look for them," Saiya volunteered. "They might need my help to carry the ammo."

Tom nodded his consent, and she hopped to her feet and started down the staircase towards the commons. She was barely halfway to the bottom when there was a terrible crashing sound from above, and the stones beneath her feet trembled with vibrations. With a gasp, she spun around and ran back up.

The platform where the ballista had rested was simply no longer there. In its place was a ragged crater in the wall, some five feet deep and twice that in width. On the edge of it lay Tom, his leg trapped beneath the twisted remains of the crossbow. Kleppin had taken the full brunt of the enemy projectile; there was nothing left of him, save for a stomach-churning amount of blood.

"Oh gods," Saiya groaned, dropping to her knees beside Tom. She tried to get a good hold on the wreckage pinning him down, but the metal was searing hot, and she jerked her hands away, swearing.

"Leave me, lad," said the soldier, his voice rough with pain. "I'm a goner."

"No way!" Saiya snapped. _Think, you fool! There has to be some way. If only I had something to use as a lever … ah._ Seizing the halberd she had taken earlier, she jammed the lethal end underneath the beam of the ballista, mindful not to accidentally amputate Tom's foot. She braced the haft on her shoulder and heaved upwards with all her strength. Inch by agonizing inch, the heavy ballista began to raise, until at last Tom was able to pull himself free. With Saiya's assistance, he rose to his feet, leaning on her heavily as he tried to balance on his uninjured leg.

"Come on," Saiya said, "let's get you to the infirmary."

"I can find my own way," he replied. When she protested, he gently pushed her away. "No, you've done right by me, lad. Go on, now. Find your friend. I'll be alright. I always am."

"At least take this to steady yourself with," she urged, holding out the halberd. Tom muttered his thanks and set off slowly down the stairs. Saiya watched him until she was sure he really could manage before heading in the opposite direction, further along the wall.

Panic set in just as she reached the first of the squat, square towers which were planted at intervals around the ramparts. One moment she was striding briskly, her eyes scanning for any sign of Caesar, and the next moment, the realization of how close to death she had come struck her like a hammer to the head. Her mouth went dry, her heart-rate accelerated alarmingly, and she found it very difficult to catch her breath.

 _What is wrong with me?_ she thought frantically as she crouched down, pressing her back against the cold stone. _I've nearly died before, and it never affected me like this!_ But her imagination kept replaying the destruction of the ballista, except that she hadn't moved, she was still there, chatting idly with Tom while their impending death hurtled towards them.

She would never have known what happened. A split second of impact, perhaps even painless. There would have been no body to bury, no remains to identify. Her friends might have searched for her in vain, wondering what had become of her. And the child within her …

 _Calm down,_ she told herself. _It didn't happen. You're fine, the baby is fine. Now get the fuck up and keep moving!_

But she couldn't do it. Her muscles were frozen, paralyzed by the growing conviction that at any second, another boulder thrown by the enemy catapults would squash her like a bug. Nowhere felt safe. If she stayed where she was, she would die. If she continued trying to find Caesar, she would die. If she fled back into the Keep, she would die.

The clatter of boots thundered in her ears as an entire squad of soldiers ran past. They ignored her, either because they didn't see her huddled in a nook at the base of the tower, or because they didn't have time to care.

All save for one man whose footsteps slowed and then stopped. After a slight pause, a kindly voice said, "You okay, kid?"

Saiya knew that voice, with its light timbre and lilting accent, and the surprise of encountering it in this setting was enough of a jolt to snap her out of her terrified state. She would have expected its owner to be installed in the commons, enjoying himself, rather than out here risking his life.

"Lyndon," she said, "it's me."

"Saiya?" exclaimed the rogue dubiously. "What in Raven's name are you doing, and what happened to your clothes?"

"It's a long story," she retorted, smiling a little at the vague explanation that had become somewhat of a running joke between them.

"And a fascinating one, too, I bet," snorted Lyndon. "I wasn't even aware you had, er … woken up." Then the levity vanished entirely from his tone, and he said, "Oh Saiya, I'm so sorry about Baal. I have some idea of what you must be feeling right now, and I just want you to know that if you need to talk, you can always come to me."

"That's … really sweet of you, Lyndon," Saiya said, feeling rather stunned. His softer side made its appearance so irregularly that it was easy to forget it existed at all.

"Not really," he said off-handedly. "Mind if I sit down for a minute? I'm pretty beat. I've been out here all day."

"Go ahead," said Saiya. "It isn't as if I own this corner, you know."

"You should consider changing that," Lyndon chuckled. "Granted, property values in this area are at an all-time low – probably because no one fancies moving into a war zone – but give it a few months, and you'd be able to sell for quite a profit and move to a palatial summer house in Kehjistan."

"Really?" asked Saiya, fighting hard to keep her face straight. "Do you think Calderos would be willing to consider my offer? I'm not exactly wealthy."

"No, but you are a hero. You've even got a medal. That's got to count for something."

"Not in his eyes," the young monk grumbled. Try as she might, she was unable to prevent bitterness from seeping into her tone. "If the chest that medal is pinned on comes with breasts, then he considers it worthless. Do you know, I told him I could fight, and he said that he 'didn't employ women to do a man's job', and that he was sure I could find work in the kitchens!"

"And yet here you are," said Lyndon. "Actively proving him wrong."

Saiya flushed, recalling the attack of nerves she'd been suffering when he'd found her. "I'm not so sure about that," she admitted, and explained what had happened, and the events preceding it. Lyndon's mustache curled downwards in disapproval.

"Saiya," he said, "I've seen hardened criminals lose their shit over less than some of the horrors you've borne witness to. You wouldn't be a normal human being if the experience of nearly dying didn't upset you a little, especially now that you've got someone else along for the ride whose very existence relies on you to stay alive. The fact that you're out here anyway makes you one of the bravest people I've ever met, hands down."

"Thanks, Lyndon," she said. "You're a good man." She reached out to pat his shoulder but drew back, dismayed, when his face twisted as though she had said something cruel.

"Sorry," he mumbled, noticing her expression. "It's just … what you said just then reminded me of … of someone very dear to me. That's all."

"Who was it?" Saiya asked.

Lyndon flashed a brief and hollow smile. "Oh, merely an old lover of mine. I don't want to bore you with the details."

Saiya caught his gaze and held it. "Lyndon, we're friends. Of course you don't have to tell me if you'd rather not, but I won't be bored, and I won't mock you, or gossip about you. I already know that underneath your cavalier façade, there's a man who's been hurt a lot. I'm well aware that your experiences have toughened you. You don't think anyone really cares … but I _do_. I care about you a lot."

His green eyes had grown steadily wider throughout the course of her speech, and his mouth opened and closed without making any sound. Clearly, this revelation had blindsided him. Saiya felt guilty that, after all this time, he didn't know his own worth in her eyes.

After a minute, he looked down at his knees and huffed a quiet laugh. "Listen to us, getting all maudlin when there's a battle on. Tell you what, Saiya, if we make it through the night, come find me in the commons after breakfast and I'll regale you with stories of my tragic life. Deal?"

"Deal," Saiya agreed. They shook on it, and then Lyndon climbed to his feet, pulling her up with him.

"Right-o. Shall we mosey on, darlin'? Much as I like our corner, if we wait here much longer, it's liable to be invaded."

Saiya nodded. "Have you seen Caesar? He's out here somewhere and I promised Ghor that I'd look for him."

"Had the poor fellow gotten himself lost again?" said Lyndon, with mock concern. "Never fear, fair lady, your old pal Lyndon will soon set things right."

They had not gone far when they heard cries for help, coming from a lower level of the ramparts. Peering over the edge, Saiya saw a narrow walkway about twenty feet below, where a small knot of soldiers were surrounded on both sides by ghouls. As she watched, more of the vile creatures sprang up over the side of the ledge.

"They're climbing the walls like ants!" Lyndon exclaimed. "Gods, they could be all over by now!"

"I'm going down there," Saiya said. "Give me covering fire." Before he had a chance to argue, she vaulted over the battlements. For a split second she was free falling, the wind rushing through her hair and buffeting her eyelids, and then she landed feet-first on several of the ghouls, flattening them. She ignored the ache in her legs from the impact and launched into a fluid kick, sending another foe sailing off the walkway and down hundreds of feet to the plains below.

Thin arms wrapped around her neck in a chokehold as a ghoul jumped onto her back. She twisted, trying to shake it off, but it had worked its fingers under her armor and was tearing at her throat with its blunt nails. Reaching behind her, she caught it by the ankle and was tugging vainly when it suddenly went limp and slipped away. Glancing down, she saw an arrow sticking from the side of its head.

With Lyndon's expert assistance, the rest of the ghouls were soon disposed of. Saiya stretched her sore muscles, missing the lightness and flexibility of her Iron Wolf armor. The constrictive breastplate made her feel like she was fighting with her arms and legs sticking out of a barrel.

The soldiers that had survived the assault thanked her profusely. Saiya brushed off their oaths of service to her and all her family, and left them to build a barricade which would hopefully prevent any further attacks from that direction. She took the long way back up to rejoin Lyndon, who was less than pleased with her impulsive intervention.

"That's a good way to get yourself killed, jumping off walls," he grumbled. "Don't you have any sense, girl?"

"Oh, stuff it," Saiya replied. "I'm not about to aband- … what the hell? Is that who I think it is?"

As Lyndon followed the line of her pointing finger, his face flushed with anger. "I'd like to throttle that scumbag who calls himself a commander!" he growled.

Freja was standing in a cage barely tall and wide enough to accommodate her size. Her shoulders and hips were pressed tightly against the metal grid, as was the top of her head. A small snowdrift had piled up at the base of her tiny prison; evidently she'd been there for some time.

"We have to let her out," said Lyndon.

"You're the one that brought her here," Saiya reminded him. "As I recall, you intended to use her as a bargaining chip to ensure we received a warm welcome. What did you think was going to happen to her?"

"Not this!" he cried. "I expected Calderos to lock her up in the dungeon, where prisoners should be kept, not … not put out on display, like some kind of sick trophy!"

"I agree that this is wrong," said Saiya, "but what do you hope to gain from releasing her? She's unlikely to be friendly towards us, after what we did. And if Calderos finds out, he'll probably kill her, and maybe us as well. He doesn't seem like the kind of man for whom 'justice' means much."

"Look," said Lyndon, "the fact of the matter is that if we leave her there, she's going to die anyway. She's completely defenseless in that cage. All it would take is one ghoul spotting her, and she's done for. That's not _my_ idea of justice. Is it yours?"

Saiya's shoulders slumped in defeat. "No, of course not. You're right, Lyndon. Let's just be quick about it, okay? And I'm counting on you to explain what we're doing to her so she doesn't try to strangle us the moment she's free."

Freja didn't appear to see them as they cautiously approached, but Saiya suspected from the way her arms tensed that she was aware of their presence. Lyndon cleared his throat.

" _Prepáč mi,"_ he said. _"S_ _miem ťa uvoľniť?"_

Freja turned her head as far as she was able, and gazed down at them with a scornful expression. In the dim light of the nearby torches, Saiya could see a mass of fading bruises scattered across her pretty face. Her eyebrow and lip were split, and there was dried blood crusted underneath her nose. The young monk gritted her teeth as fury boiled hot in her stomach. No one had the right to abuse captives. The Barbarians hadn't done it, and it made her sick to think that men she'd considered civilized had behaved worse than then people who had tried to enslave her.

" _Prečo by si to robil?"_ Freja demanded. _"_ _Nepáči sa ti už pohľad na mňa v putách, ty chudák?"_

Lyndon winced. _"_ _Nie, nepáči. Je mi ľúto čo sa stalo. Netušil som že Calderos je taký zbabelec."_

" _Mohla by som ti o tom porozprávať,"_ said Freja. _"_ _Je známy svojou obľubou v týraní druhých."_

"Hurry up, Lyndon," Saiya muttered, glancing around. There were a few soldiers within view, but fortunately they were occupied in manning a catapult.

"Shut up, Saiya," Lyndon whispered back. "I'm involved in delicate negotiations here. She'll certainly take it as an insult if I imply that I'm in a position of power over her." Going down on one knee, he said, _"_ _Moja pani, dovolíš mi uvoľniť ťa z tej klietky?"_

This seemed to amuse Freja, for she snorted loudly, causing Saiya to shoot a paranoid glance at the soldiers. _"_ _Aspoň že si úctivý,"_ said the Barbarian. _"_ _Dobre teda, pusti ma. Ale varujem ťa, nie som tvojim džníkom."_

" _Prirodzene,"_ remarked Lyndon. Scooting closer to the bars, he removed a small metal implement from a pouch at his belt and began to wiggle it around in the lock. Freja watched with interest.

While Lyndon worked away, Saiya stood guard, preparing excuses in case they were caught red-handed. She was started to feel ashamed of her willingness to leave Freja to her sorry fate, and she knew that a few months ago, she would have been horrified at the notion that one day, _Lyndon_ would have to convince _her_ to do the right thing. She'd spent her whole life standing up for what she believed in, even if she was the only person who did. But a minute ago, her own safety had seemed more important than Freja's. Why? Because Saiya disliked her? That was no good reason. When had her morals changed so drastically? One thing was certain: as soon as she had a quiet moment to herself, she was going to need to meditate for a long, long time, until she was able to sort out exactly who she was.

"There we go!" Lyndon announced, and with a final twist of his lock pick, the cage door swung open. Freja stepped slowly out. Saiya had never been more aware of her sheer bulk than she was right then, with the Barbarian within arm's reach, towering over her. It would be the work of a moment for Freja to snap her spine, if she so desired.

The two women locked eyes, staring at each other in silence. Feeling as though she ought to make some overture to break the ice, Saiya pointed at her chest and said her own name, then held out her hand expectantly. Freja just looked at it.

 _"Čaká, kým jej podáš ruku,"_ said Lyndon. The Barbarian raised a quizzical eyebrow.

 _"Prečo?"_

 _"Zo slušnosti."_

"Hmph!" Freja snorted. Engulfing Saiya's hand in her own, she waggled it back and forth a few times. Saiya decided that this was as cordial as interactions with her new ally were likely to get, and forced her lips into what she hoped was a friendly smile.

 _"Vy južania ste zvláštni,"_ said Freja. She shifted her grip so that their fingers were gripping each other's thumbs, and raised their joined hands. _"Takto sa zdravíme my. Takže ty si Saiya?"_

Catching her name among the jumble of unfamiliar words, Saiya nodded. "Yes, Saiya. And you're Freja, right?"

Lyndon translated this. His eyes widened as he listened to the response. "You're not going to believe this," he announced. "She said her name is Freja, daughter of Siegfried, Hero of the North, who took an angel as his bride. Saiya, she's a Nephalem too!"

"Are you sure?" Saiya demanded. "You're not misunderstanding her?"

Lyndon consulted with Freja again. _"_ _Tvoja matka bola anjel?_ _Takže si Nephalem?"_

" _Áno,"_ said Freja, _"ale tam odkiaľ pochádzam im hovoríme Deti nebies."_

"She's the real thing," Lyndon reported. "Gods, this is ridiculous! Is every random person I meet secretly a half-child?"

"Keep your voice down!" Saiya hissed. "They're going to hear … oh. Shit, is he looking this way?" She glanced surreptitiously past Freja, towards the catapult. The soldier closest to them was peering in their direction. "Yep, he's definitely looking this way. _Shit._ What do we do, Lyndon?"

But the rogue was ignoring her, staring over her shoulder with his mouth hanging open. She waved a hand in front of his face. "Lyndon. Hel- _lo_ , Lyndon. Are you okay?"

Whatever he was looking at had now caught Freja's attention as well. The Barbarian's expression bordered on incredulous, and her hand groped instinctively for a weapon which was not there.

Saiya, who was beginning to feel alarmed, turned slowly around. She had expected more ghouls, or perhaps Commander Calderos (hard to tell which was the less pleasant of the two), but what met her eyes instead was a horror beyond her darkest nightmares. She was looking into the black depths of a gaping mouth, the teeth of which were longer than she was tall. The creature supporting this ghastly maw was reminiscent of a centipede, with an extremely long, thin body supported by many segmented legs, tipped in wicked claws. It had no eyes to speak of.

"What … the … fucking … _fuck_ ," breathed Lyndon.

The monstrosity cracked its jaws open even wider, and Saiya saw movement at the back of its throat. She watched with a mixture of disgust and fascination as several demons dragged themselves over the creature's tongue and leaped between its teeth to land on the stone in front of them. The first thought that came to her mind was, _it must smell terrible in there!_ Following it directly was the much grimmer notion that if there were more of these things – and surely there were – then the walls of this supposedly impenetrable fortress had most likely already been breached.

"Looks like we've got a fight on our hands," said Lyndon, raising his crossbow. Before he could fire even a single shot, however, a rain of arrows descended seemingly from the heavens, peppering the demons advancing on them. They fell beneath the onslaught.

"Did you-?" Saiya began. Lyndon shook his head, looking equally amazed.

"No! Could it have been the soldiers by the catapult?"

Saiya's reply dropped soundlessly from her lips as she caught sight of a tall, slender figure standing atop the great worm, cloak tossing wildly in the wind. The only visible features were a pair of brightly glowing eyes.

"Baal!" she cried.

* * *

 **Here's a transcript of Lyndon's conversation with Freja. All praise goes to Wryxinka for the awesome translation help! :D  
**

 **Lyndon:** "Excuse me, may I offer my services to release you?"

 **Freja:** "Why would you do that? Don't you enjoy seeing me in here, little man?"

 **Lyndon:** "No, I don't. I'm sorry this happened. I didn't know that Calderos was such a coward."

 **Freja:** "I could have told you that. He has a reputation for weak brutality."

 **Lyndon:** "My lady, will you allow me the honor of undoing the lock on that cage?"

 **Freja:** "You're respectful, at least. Very well, let me out. But be warned, I do not consider myself in your debt."

 **Lyndon:** "Naturally."

 **Lyndon:** "She wants you to shake it."

 **Freja:** "Why?"

 **Lyndon:** "It's considered polite."

 **Freja:** "You southerners are so strange! This is how we greet each other. So, your name is Saiya?"

 **Lyndon:** "Your mother was an angel? You are a Nephalem?"

 **Freja:** "Yes, but where I come from, they call us Children of Heaven."

 **Okay folks, that's all for now! Reviews are deeply appreciated from the very bottom of my heart!**


	6. 6 - Unwelcome Truths

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part Three: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Maybe again_  
 _He will be alone_  
 _Guess we're equally damaged_  
 _Find your name_  
 _Do it all the same equally_  
 _Signal when you can't breathe no more_

 _Say you were me_  
 _Then you could see the view_  
 _You'll know we are equally damaged_  
 _Don't be a fool_  
 _Make it easier_  
 _You'll learn to say when_  
 _Signal if you can't say, 'No more'."_  
 _\- Blonde Redhead_  
 _"For the Damaged"_

* * *

Chapter Six: Unwelcome Truths

Baal leaped nimbly down from the demon worm's head, landing in a crouch with all the grace of a cat. He let out a piercing whistle, and a little piece of the night sky detached itself and swooped down in the form of Gawahir. The raven carried a small bundle in his claws. Saiya let out an inadvertent gasp as he flew directly into the open mouth of the monster, but he backed air at the last moment, dropping his burden before winging swiftly upwards. Baal, having already taken aim, fired a bolt that pierced the bundle as it fell.

"Cover your ears," he advised. A split second later, a tremendous explosion filled the worm's maw with fire and shrapnel. It reeled backwards, trailing smoke, and plummeted all the way down to the plains below. The Hunter nodded in satisfaction as he rose to his feet.

"Hello, Lyndon," he remarked. "I would say that I'm surprised to see you, but somehow I'm not." His eyes passed over Freja with little interest and fixed on Saiya. She stared back at him, at a loss for words. Everything she had planned to say to him had suddenly deserted her brain now that he was actually standing in front of her.

Baal was equally speechless, however, and the silence stretched on long enough to become slightly awkward. Lyndon cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. Freja tilted her head to one side.

At last, Saiya could take it no longer. Reaching up, she removed the heavy helmet and tucked it under her arm. "Um … hi," she said.

That seemed to galvanize him. Narrowing his eyes, he said, "Why are you here? You're not supposed to be here."

"Really?" she snapped, stung. "You haven't seen me in over a month, and _those_ are the first words that come out of your mouth? That's amazing, Baal. That's quite something."

Pushing his hood back, he raked a hand through his hair in the gesture that meant he was distressed and didn't want to show it. "Look, that's not how I meant it. It's just … I explicitly told you to meet me in Ivgorod."

She could easily have told him the truth, that she _had_ been going to Ivgorod, and was waylaid through no fault of her own. She knew that he would have accepted that. But the inference behind his statement – that he expected her to blindly obey his commands – infuriated her so much that she chose instead to fight back.

"Since when have I ever done what you tell me to? What gives you the right to dictate my life?"

"It was for your own good!"

"Was it? I notice that you had no problem dragging Leah along!"

"Oh come on, not this again! I've told you-"

"Yes, I know. There's nothing between you and Leah. I don't _care,_ Baal! That's not the point!"

"Then what is?"

Saiya felt the wind like ice on her cheeks and realized that they were wet; she was crying. Gulping back a sob, she said, "The point is that you left me. You know how I feel about being left behind, and you did it anyway. You were the one person I thought I could count on to be there, no matter what. How am I supposed to trust you now?"

Baal's face had turned very white. "Saiya, I … p-please don't say that," he stammered. "I didn't want to … you don't understand.I was something that I _had_ to do."

"Sure," she said, shrugging. "Whatever. I knew I ranked below the Hunters on your list of priorities, Baal, you've made that very clear from the beginning, but-"

"No, you don't get it!"

"Will you let me finish?" He fell silent. "Thank you. I do get it. Really. And I'm not angry about what you did. But did you have to sneak away in the night like a criminal, without even saying a proper goodbye?"

"I left you a note," he mumbled.

"Yeah, you did. It was a shitty note that didn't tell me anything about why you left, or when I might see you again, but I guess it was better than nothing."

His eyes blazed up suddenly, twin fires flashing from the shadows of his hood. "What _would_ have been good enough, Saiya? Did you want me to wake you up and tell you that I had to leave and you might never see me again? Would you have let me go if I had? Somehow I doubt it."

Saiya was so utterly focused on their argument that she had all but forgotten Lyndon and Freja were observing. She jumped when the rogue stepped cautiously in between them, saying, "I hate to interrupt this touching reunion, but do you think this is really the place? We are in the middle of a siege, and-"

"I'm aware of that, thanks," Saiya growled. Then, turning back to Baal, she said, "He _is_ right, though. We should talk later. Right now, I have things to do."

"Things," Baal repeated dryly.

"Yes," she snapped. "If you must know, Caesar's out here somewhere, and I promised Ghor that I would find him. You're welcome to come along with me if you want to, but I'm not going to waste any more time standing around."

"Well, fine then," said Baal, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let's go look for the mage. That's a great idea!" He started towards her, only to stop midstride, a look of dismay crossing his face. "Oh, fu-" he began, and then staggered sideways and collapsed into Lyndon, who barely managed to keep them both upright. Gawahir fluttered agitatedly around their heads.

"Ytar's grace!" Saiya exclaimed, running over to them, her temper washed away by a flood of fear. "Baal, are you okay?"

Lyndon checked his pulse. "He appears to have fainted."

"What! Why?"

The older man shifted his position to better support Baal's limp form. "I'm no healer," he said, "but I'd put it down to a case of extreme exhaustion and malnutrition."

"Oh, gods," Saiya groaned, "and here I was, haranguing him like some nagging housewife." She stroked a hand over Baal's forehead, taking note of his ashen complexion with a sinking sensation. He did not look well.

"The thing to do," said Lyndon, "is get him inside, check him for wounds, and just let him sleep it off. He'll come to when he's ready."

With a grunt of exertion, he levered the unconscious Hunter over his shoulders, hooking one arm around Baal's right leg and gripping his right arm with the other. Freja strolled beside him as he headed down a nearby flight of stairs that led back to the commons. Saiya trailed after them, Gawahir perching sulkily on her shoulder, feeling more miserable than she had in a long time. Baal's collapse had shaken her badly; she had never before seen him so feeble. Se couldn't bear to leave him, though the shadow of her obligation to Ghor was hanging heavy over her head.

Reaching the inner keep, they stopped in a small pantry which, to judge by the dust on the floor and shelves, had not been in use for a long time. Lyndon spoke briefly to Freja, and they seemed to reach some sort of agreement. She stepped inside the pantry and closed the door. Saiya heard the bolt being slid to.

"She's going to stay in here for now," Lyndon explained. "I thought it was wise not to have Calderos' escaped prisoner running around in our company. I told her I'd come back later with some food and blankets."

Saiya had nearly forgotten about their "rescue" of the captive Barbarian. She said, "Good idea, but she can't live in there forever."

"I know," said Lyndon. "I'll plan a daring escape later. For now, let's get lover-boy taken care of."

"But Caesar-"

"Will be fine, I'm sure." He stopped in his tracks, turning to Saiya with an unusually stern expression on his face. "Hey, darlin' … I know this is none of my business, and I admit that it's a bit hypocritical of me to say anything, but I couldn't help but notice your, er … _attachment_ to the mage. Let me just warn you: juggle too many balls at once, and you're bound to drop one."

Saiya scowled at him, in no mood to play games. "What are you trying to say, exactly?"

"Well, to put it bluntly, you can have one or the other, but you can't have both. Trust me, I've tried, and it never works out well. You have a choice to make, and you'd better make it soon, because otherwise someone else is going to make it for you."

"I have made my choice," Saiya said, rather stiffly.

Lyndon's eyebrow inched upwards. "Oh? Who's the lucky man, then?"

"Baal, of course."

"Oh, of course."

She stepped on his foot. "Don't be an ass. It's always been Baal. What happened between me and Caesar was a terrible mistake that we both regret, but it was a one-time thing, and … and … I don't even know why I'm justifying it to you! Why do you care, anyway? It's nothing to do with you."

"I care because you're my friend," said Lyndon. "And also because, well, I guess I'm a sucker for happy endings. I mean, Caesar's a decent fellow and all, but I really think you have something special going with Baal. And when you find love like that, you don't just throw it away for the first pretty person who comes along. _That_ would be a terrible mistake."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," Saiya said quietly.

Lyndon sighed. "Yeah. Sort of. I was head over heels for a woman once. I would have done anything for her, anything she asked. But she only saw me as a unruly lout, and despite all my promises to change my ways, she just wouldn't give me a chance."

"I'm sorry," Saiya murmured. "That must have been hard."

The rogue let out a bitter laugh. "Not nearly so hard as watching her marry my older brother."

An image flashed through Saiya's mind, of herself standing in a crowd of people, looking on as Baal joined hands with a woman whose face was hidden behind a white veil. She winced.

"Is that why you started traveling?" she asked.

"No," said Lyndon. "That would have been the smart thing to do. Instead I spent six years eating dinner at their table, playing with their little son and daughter, and drowning my sorrows in expensive whisky and cheap whores."

"What changed?"

He didn't answer for a long moment. Saiya was on the verge of apologizing for prying too far when he said, in a voice choked with emotion, "I got my brother locked away for a crime he didn't fucking commit, that's what." He leaned against the wall, easing the burden of Baal's dead weight. "It was an accident, believe it or not. I would never have done it on purpose. You see, I joined the Thieves' Guild as a young man, but Edlin became a member of the city guard. You might think this would cause issues between us, but we used it to our advantage. He was more like me than he cared to admit, I think. Anyway, I would tip him off when we had a big job on, and he'd bring the guard in and save the day, look like a real hero. He rose up through the ranks pretty fast as a result, and used his influence with the guard to keep their eyes away from me. But eventually he slipped up, and arrived an hour early for one of the bigger heists. They accused him of being involved. He tried to explain that he had a contact in the Thieves' Guild, but when he demanded to know who it was, he refused to give me up. It was pointless, really, because the Guild has already cottoned on to the fact that I was selling them out. I had to split before they killed me, and Edlin took the fall for it. He's still in the Kingsport prison, as far as I know, while I wander the world trying to stay one step ahead of the Thieves' Guild. Some life, eh?"

"There must be some way to help your brother," Saiya said, earning another mirthless chuckle.

"Oh, certainly. With enough gold, even the most stalwart champion of justice will be willing to look the other way. For the last fifteen years, I've sent every spare coin I can earn, steal, or borrow back to Rea in the hope that someday, it'll be enough to buy Edlin's freedom."

"Fifteen years!" Saiya cried, shocked. "Surely you've got enough by now!"

"I wouldn't know," said Lyndon. "I've never gotten a reply to any of my letters."

Overwhelmed with compassion for him, Saiya felt her eyes sting with tears. "That isn't right!" she insisted. "Lyndon, you deserve better than that! When all this is over, I'm going to travel to Kingsport and find Rea. I'll make sure that your brother is released, no matter what it costs."

Lyndon's mustache quivered as he pressed his lips firmly together. "Saiya," he began, "I … I just don't know what to say. I didn't tell you this as a bid for sympathy, or to try to con you-"

"I know that," she said. "I offered to help you because I want to."

"Well," he said, "I'll be damned. You'll have to forgive me, darlin', if I'm a little rusty at this whole gratitude thing. I'm not used to honest kindness. But I do appreciate it, more than I can ever say." Stepping closer, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Come on, let's get moving before Sleeping Beauty here wakes up."

As they entered the commons, Saiya snagged a passing healer by the sleeve, saying, "I'm sorry, I know you're busy, but do you have a spare bed? My friend is injured."

The woman turned weary eyes on her and pointed to a cot, where two men were hauling away the body of a third slung between them. "Put him there," she said. "Someone will come to take a look at him shortly."

Saiya thanked her effusively. Fortunately, the cot in question was tucked away in a corner, allowing for some modicum of privacy. With Lyndon's help, she improved upon this by stringing up a sheet to form a makeshift curtain. Lyndon departed to get food, both for Baal when he woke and for Freja, waiting in the storeroom.

All alone (save for the raven, who sat on Baal's pillow with his back to her), Saiya knelt on the hard floor beside the cot and looked at her lover's sleeping face. She was not used to being in this position: it was always her in the bed, unconscious, while others tended to her needs. It was agonizing to be the one awake, hanging on every breath, waiting for some sign of life. She wondered if this was why Baal's avoided infirmaries like the plague.

He had changed little in the month-and-a-half since she had last seen him. The angles of his face were a bit sharper, his hair tangled and full of needles and clumps of sap. It would probably need to be cut. He had at least attempted to shave, though the results were almost ludicrously uneven.

For now, though, Saiya's main concern was with what lay beneath his tattered and stained clothing. She had seen the damage to his leg, but she didn't know if he had sustained any other wounds. As gently and respectfully as possible, she undressed him, starting with his cloak, vest, and shirt. His torso was unscathed, save for some faint bruising along his too-visible ribs.

She experienced a momentary compunction when it was time to progress to his pants, unsure if he would want her touching him like this, given their current discord. But her desire to help won out over her trepidation, and she undid his belt and slipped the cloth down over his legs.

The scarring was worse than she had remembered. Thick welts of newly-healed flesh ran from his hip down past his knee, overlapping each other in places. Saiya tried to imagine what sort of weapon could have caused such devastation. The marks were too broad for a whip, too savage for a sword. They resembled claw marks more than anything else. Had he been mauled by a bear? She shuddered, suddenly grateful that the mutilation was restricted to his leg.

Goosebumps had appeared on his bare skin, so she covered him with the thickest blanket she could get her hands on, tucking it tenderly around his shoulders and feet. Then, unable to stop herself, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead.

With startling speed, his hand snapped out from under the blanket and latched on to her wrist. Saiya froze, recalling the last time she had jarred him awake – in a semi-conscious state, he had held a knife to her throat.

"Don't leave me," he said thickly.

"Alright," she replied. "I won't."

Baal tossed his head back and forth on the pillow. "Saiya," he groaned. "Don't leave me … _please …_ "

 _He's talking in his sleep,_ she realized, and felt a burst of pure joy, because he was talking to _her_ , and no one else. She was the one he was begging to stay by his side.

He still loved her.

"Hush, darling," she whispered into his ear. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here with you."

That seemed to calm him, though he still held tightly to her wrist, as though afraid she would slip away the moment he let go. Lacking a chair, Saiya sat on the floor, leaning her head against his arm. Now that she was able to rest, she was terribly exhausted. It occurred to her that she had not eaten properly in … how long had Caesar said it had been? Three days. On top of that, she had been running around killing demons, and had suffered the emotional shock of seeing Baal again, and immediately getting into an argument with him. It was no wonder, she thought, that she felt like she could sleep standing up.

But she forced herself to stay awake, wanting to be alert when Lyndon returned. For a little while, she observed the goings-on in the infirmary, listening for any familiar voices. At one point, she could have sworn she heard Kormac speaking urgently to someone in his native tongue, but when she peeked around the curtain, there was no sign of the Templar.

Gradually, her thoughts turned inward instead, dwelling on the conundrum of what came next for her and Baal. She was still angry with him for all the pain his actions had caused her, but mostly she was ashamed. It was clear that, for a reason she didn't understand, the vision in the mirror had been false. Baal had not been with Vera, he had been _here_ , getting himself nearly torn apart. And that meant that she had broken faith with him, not the other way around. How was she going to tell him that?

And more importantly, perhaps, how was she going to tell him that she was pregnant with his child? Would it be better to come straight out with it, or lead him to the revelation via a circuitous route? The more she thought about it, however, the clearer it became that what mattered was not _how_ she broke the news, but in what order. She had to tell him about her dalliance with Caesar first. Then, if he found that unforgivable, he would still have the choice of parting ways with her. But once he knew about her pregnancy, he would feel obligated to support her, regardless of his personal desires. She would rather raise their child alone than trap him into a loveless partnership.

"Oy, Peter," said a quiet voice somewhere off to her left. She ignored it, figuring that whoever it was was talking to someone else.

"Peter," the voice repeated. It seemed to be getting closer, accompanied by shuffling footsteps. A hand reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.

Too late, she remembered her alias, and spun around to see Tom grinning down at her. Desperately trying to stifle any sign of recognition that might show on her face, she said. "Oh! Um … who are you?"

"Nice try, lassie," the soldier chuckled. "You nearly had me fooled earlier, but when I saw you across the room without that helmet covering your face, I thought, _'That's no man.'_ Though I must say, you make a very fetching lad."

"What are you going to do?" Saiya asked warily.

"Do?" exclaimed Tom. "Why, nothing, of course! Surely you didn't think that all us Bastion's Keep boys were just like old Calderos, walking around with our swords up our asses."

"You don't share the Commander's view on women in combat?"

Tom rubbed a considering finger across the bridge of his nose. "Well now, I don't like to think of ladies being in danger, but if a woman is capable and skilled, I see no reason why she shouldn't be allowed to fight. My own mother was one of the scariest people I've ever met. Anyway, lass, don't you worry none. I won't spill your secret."

"Thank you," said Saiya, genuinely grateful. "How's your leg?"

"Healers managed to save it. They said that if I'd been trapped any longer, the blood flow would have been cut off entirely, and it might have turned gangrenous. So it looks like I'm once again in your debt." His gaze drifted past her and landed on the still form in the bed. "Diablo's mighty balls! Is that Lightfoot? I heard he was dead."

"Lightfoot?" Saiya repeated, confused. "Why do you call him that?"

"On account of those magic boots of his. We had to think of _something._ His given name makes the boys a bit nervous. We're a superstitious lot, and we prefer to keep demons well outside our walls."

"Baal isn't his real name, you know," Saiya said, thinking, _Even I have no idea what it is!_ That struck her as slightly ridiculous.

"Then it doesn't matter what we call him, does it?" said Tom, with unbeatable logic.

"No," Saiya admitted. "I suppose it doesn't."

"Speaking of names," said Tom, "what's yours? Unless it actually _is_ Peter?"

The young monk laughed. "It's Saiya, actually. I'm sorry for lying to you earlier. I thought that if you discovered the truth about me, you'd send me back to hide with the other refugees."

"Can't say I wouldn't have, honestly – but it's lucky for me that I didn't. But enough talk … I'll leave the two of you alone now. It's good to meet you, Saiya."

Watching him hobble stoically away, Saiya reflected on how lucky she was to be able to make friends wherever she went in the world. She had never considered herself a particularly charismatic person, yet she seemed to get along well with most of the people she encountered. Perhaps, she thought, it was partially because she believed there was good in everyone, even scoundrels like Lyndon.

As if she had summoned him with her musings, the rogue appeared suddenly from behind the curtain, bearing a heavily-laden tray. On it was a hunk of roast meat, beef from the smell of it, a pile of mashed potatoes, bread and butter and jam, vegetable and barley soup, and two mugs of steaming hot cider. Saiya's stomach growled loudly at the mere sight of it.

"I didn't know what you'd want," said Lyndon, setting the tray across Baal's legs, "so I brought you some of everything."

"You're a life-saver!" Saiya exclaimed. "Thank you so much, Lyndon. You're welcome to join me if you like."

Lyndon's mustache drooped in a comical show of false regret. "Alas, I have an appointment with another lady almost as lovely as yourself. Wish me luck, darlin'. If all goes well, I won't be sleeping alone tonight."

"I didn't need to know that," she groaned. "Anyway, isn't she a little … _large_ for you? I bet she could pick you up with ease."

He shrugged gallantly. "My dear, a true gentleman does not discriminate. He enjoys ladies of all shapes and sizes, knowing that each has something special to offer. Besides, I happen to favor redheads."

"Okay. Um … have fun."

"I intend to." With a wink and a rakish smile, he strolled away.

Shaking her head, Saiya turned back to the cot, only to find herself staring into Baal's open eyes. She yelped aloud.

"How … how long have you been awake?"

"A few minutes," Baal said. "I think I came to around the time that bald fellow appeared."

"You mean Tom," she replied.

"Oh, is that his name? I thought he looked familiar."

Silence, awkward and heavy, stretching the few feet between them into miles of uncrossable space. Finally, Saiya motioned to the tray and said, "Would you like some food?"

"Absolutely!" he said. "I'm starving. I've been eating like a fucking squirrel for the last week … a cannibal squirrel."

Saiya couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up out of her chest, and for a moment, they grinned at each other, as if no time had passed since their days in the desert. But her joy was quickly punctured when the Hunter dropped his eyes and said, in a resolute tone, "Pass me those potatoes, please."

Neither spoke as they ate, demolishing the hearty meal in wolfish bites. Saiya was pleased to discover that, for the first time in weeks, she had no trouble keeping her food down. She didn't want Baal's introduction to her pregnancy to happen because she threw up everywhere.

But at last the tray was empty, and there was nothing more to distract them from the inevitable. Saiya was just steeling herself to broach the topic when Baal surprised her by saying, "I owe you an apology."

She bit back her impulsive, _'Yes, you certainly do,'_ and nodded shakily.

"I was a real dick to you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you I had to leave. I'm sorry I acted like an asshole when we saw each other again. I feel pretty stupid about that, actually, because the whole time we were separated, all I could think about was seeing you again."

"Then why did you go in the first place?" Saiya asked, unable to keep a chill out of her voice.

He sighed. "Well, I guess you deserve to know, even if you're not going to like it. The night I left, Leah asked to speak with me. You remember?"

"Yes."

"She told me that she'd had a vision, induced by contact with the Black Soulstone, that Azmodan was rising in the north, building an army in Arreat Crater. She had talked with Tyrael and her mother, and they agreed that the best course of action was to travel there immediately via portal. Saiya … I _couldn't_ refuse to go. I didn't like it – in fact, I hated the idea of being parted from you, especially after the plans we had made, but to turn my back on my duty meant turning my back on the Hunters, and on everything we worked so hard to accomplish. Don't you see, I had no choice."

"I knew all of that already," Saiya said.

"You … you did?"

"Yes, Baal, I'm not an idiot. I could tell that something was wrong that last evening we spent together, but I didn't question you about it. I figured that you'd tell me in your own time. And then when I woke to find you gone, I knew that it had to be something do to with the Hunters. I'm not angry that you left. But _why_ , for Ytar's sake, didn't you take me with you?"

"Ah." One of his hands fiddled with the blankets, agile fingers working at a hole in the seam, while the other absently stroked Gawahir's head. The raven gave a sharp squawk and nipped his thumb.

"Let me guess," she muttered, when no answer was forthcoming. "It was out of some misguided attempt to protect me."

"Hardly misguided!" protested Baal. "Saiya, do you know _anything_ about Azmodan?"

"He's one of the Great Evils, right? So what? You seem to have forgotten that _I_ was the one who killed Belial."

"This is different."

"How?"

"Belial was a weakling among the Lords of Hell. His skill lay in deception and trickery, not brute force. Azmodan is worse, _much_ worse. There's a reason why the angels fear him. He's a brilliant tactician, the Supreme Commander of the Armies of Hell, and much more dangerous in battle than Belial was, because his strength is real, not forged. But the biggest difference of all is in their personalities. Belial was cunning, but Azmodan is malicious and cruel. He is the Lord of Sin, and his greatest pleasure lies in perverting the innocent, corrupting the good, and subverting the strong. Now do you understand why I didn't want you within a hundred miles of here? If anything happened to you … if he took you from me … it would break me."

Saiya reached out and took his hand. "Baal," she murmured, "I know that your intentions were noble, but you can't keep me locked away for fear that something will 'happen' to me. I could just as easily die because I fell down the stairs at home than I could fighting evil by your side. I don't blame you for wanting to protect me, but I _do_ resent that you took away my ability to choose my own path."

He couldn't meet her eyes. "Would you have come with me, if you knew?" he whispered.

"Yes," she said. "I would follow you into Hell itself."

A small, sad smile turned the corners of his mouth. "Let us hope it doesn't come to that."

"Agreed."

"So … do you forgive me?"

She squeezed his hand. "Of course I do. And I'm sorry as well. I shouldn't have yelled at you, after what you'd been through."

"That reminds me," said Baal. "I had the strangest experience several days ago. No doubt you've heard by now that I went to Sescheron with Leah, Tyrael, and Adria, but you probably don't know what happened there."

"All Caesar told me was that you hadn't returned."

"Yeah, well, you can blame Adria for that," he said darkly. "We were ambushed by yetis in the ruins and overwhelmed, and Adria opened a portal back to the Keep, but the bitch closed it again before I could get through. I barely managed to make it over the wall. I was too injured to walk far, so I holed up under a fir tree and treated my wounds as best I could. I thought for sure that I was going to die there. But then, a few days ago, I saw … gods, you're going to think I've lost my mind. I saw-"

"Me," Saiya interrupted. Baal's eyes widened.

"You _know_?"

"Uh-huh. I can't recall it too well – it felt kind of like a waking dream, really – but when I found out that you were missing, I went into a deep meditation, deeper than I've ever been before. I just _knew,_ somehow, that I had to find you. So I wandered. Ghor says that it's called 'spirit-walking'."

"You saved my life," he whispered.

"Well, I love you."

His grin was like the sun coming out after a long storm. "I love you, too, _nuur il-'en._ I'll never leave you again, I promise!"

Looking at his beautiful smile, full of affection and happiness, Saiya thought about how easy it would be to simply forget that night with Caesar, to never mention it, to pretend that it hadn't happened. She knew the wizard would take the secret to his grave if she asked him to. No one else knew about it (except maybe Lyndon, but he was unlikely to tell, especially after the bonding moment she's had with him earlier). Was it really necessary to break Baal's heart? Was honesty worth the price of seeing that smile disappear, worth the hurt in his eyes, the accusal?

"What's wrong?" Baal asked, finally noticing the conflict playing out across her features. "Did I say something wrong?"

She just couldn't do it. If she kept this to herself, it would fester and rot until it ruined her. How could they possibly hope to have a relationship if she couldn't even look at him without feeling guilty.

"Saiya, are you okay?"

 _I'm so sorry,_ she thought, and took a deep breath.

"Baal, there's something you need to know. I … I've done a terrible thing."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What was it?"

"I …" She floundered, unsure how to put her betrayal into words. _'I kissed him,'_ seemed too light, _'We made love,'_ was closer to the truth, but aired on the other side. Finally she settled for the middle ground. "I got involved with Caesar."

Silence.

"I-it was a one time thing, and we stopped before it could go too far. It was my fault, I instigated it because I was angry with you. I've never regretted anything so much in my life."

Silence.

"Baal … please _say_ something."

Their hands were still clasped together; he disengaged his fingers with a gentleness that was almost painful. His face was very still, like a stone mask, but his eyes smoldered.

"What do you want me to say, Saiya?"

"I don't know," she sobbed. "I'm sorry! I'd give anything to be able to go back and unmake that decision."

"Well, you can't," he snapped. "It's done now."

"I know," she mumbled. "If you never want to see me again, I'll understand."

Baal sighed, raking both hands violently through his hair and wincing when his fingers caught on the tangles. "Ow, fuck. _Fuck!_ I don't believe this. I never thought _you_ would … gods above, Saiya. Look, I'm gonna need some time to work through this, okay?"

"Of course," she said, rising to her feet. "Shall I go?"

"I think that would be best," he said. "Just for now, alright? We'll talk later, once I've had a chance to calm down and sort some things out."

Saiya nodded, walking away as quickly as she could without actually fleeing. She felt like curling up into a tiny ball and crying until there was nothing left to cry, but her eyes remained stubbornly free of tears. Her mind was occupied in revisiting the chain of events that had led to this moment, trying to figure out where she went so badly wrong. It was easy to label her fling with Caesar as the source of all the trouble, but the reality was that it had begun long before that. It had started the very instant that he had tried to kiss her in the woods, thereby opening a door that, despite her best efforts, she hadn't been able to close. It was easy to see, looking back, how her infatuation with the handsome and charming wizard had built up in her heart, overshadowed by her blinding love for Baal, until finally it grew too large to be ignored. If she had been more experienced, she might have been able to correctly interpret the emotions that Caesar provoked in her, but she had brushed them off, with disastrous effect. It was no coincidence that she had chosen him as a fallback when she wanted revenge on Baal, and now she was forced to wonder if her vision in the mirror hadn't been manifested by her subconscious desire for a 'legitimate' reason to sleep with him.

 _Why,_ though, was the question that plagued her now. Why couldn't she escape from this unwanted attraction to Caesar? She was not in love with him. When faced with a clear-cut choice between him and Baal, she would choose the Hunter every time. So why wasn't she able to let him go?

A number of potential explanations came to mind. Perhaps it was because Caesar was easier to get along with than Baal: they didn't quarrel as often, and he had a more relaxed temperament. Perhaps it was because she found the wizard's devotion flattering. Or perhaps it was a simple case of wanting what she didn't have.

But the real reason, the one she already knew in her heart even though she didn't want to admit it, was that she trusted Caesar in a way that she couldn't bring herself to trust Baal.

She trusted Caesar to _be there_. When Baal left, he was the one who had stayed by her side, selflessly caring for her. His affection for her was a constant, something she could rely on. And the thought of giving that up was absolutely terrifying, because if she didn't have Baal, and she didn't have Caesar, then she would have no one at all.

 _That isn't right_ , she thought. _I shouldn't need anyone in order to function. I never did before. That isn't how the head monk raised me. He sent me out into the world to become_ more _independent, not less! I must let go of this desperate need for love if I'm ever going to be happy._

Deeply embroiled in her own thoughts, Saiya tripped over the outstretched legs of a man sitting nearby, landing awkwardly in his lap. She hastily extracted herself, stammering an apology, only to realize that it was Kormac. The Templar gazed at her with bleary eyes and took a swig from a mostly empty bottle.

" _Shwestershen!"_ he slurred. "Fanshy seeing you here. Where'd … where'd you go?"

Saiya blinked at him, torn between amusement and dismay. "I was out on the wall for a while," she replied, "and then I came back here to look after Baal."

He waved a clumsy hand in her general direction. "Baal'sh dead."

 _Oh no, he must be really drunk if he's that oblivious!_ Saiya thought. Deftly, she removed the bottle from her friend's hand, taking a curious sniff. A potent odor of spirits hit her nose, making her recoil. Whatever he'd been imbibing, it wasn't mead.

"Come on," she coaxed. "Let's get you to bed, Kormac."

" _Nein,_ don't wanna," he said petulantly.

"Why not? You must be really tired."

"Promised …"

Saiya shook her head, struggling to maintain her patience. "Who did you promise?"

This seemed to stymie him, and he frowned in confusion for a few moments before pointing to one of the cots. In the dim light, Saiya could barely make out two figures, one lying prone and motionless, and the other crouched beside the bed. Listening intently, she could hear Ghor's deep voice chanting softly in her native tongue. A sudden chill struck her.

 _Caesar!_

"Who's injured?" she asked, but received no answer. Kormac had succumbed to sleep. Saiya propped up his head with a pillow, so that he wouldn't get a crook in his neck, and moved his splayed legs out of the way of anyone passing through. Then, holding her breath, she hurried over to the _sangoma._

"Ghor, is he alri-" The words froze in his throat, for the man in the bed was not the wizard. At first, Saiya didn't recognize him, but after taking a second look, she remembered his face: it was Francis, the Templar who Kormac had introduced them to when the first arrived. His torso was bare, revealing a nasty bite on his side. Black veins of corruption spread outwards from the ragged wound, snaking towards his heart.

"What's going on?" Saiya whispered to Ghor, who had stopped chanting.

"Kormac asked for my help," said the _umbaru_ woman. "He believes that I am the only one capable of healing his brother-in-arms."

Saiya's mouth fell open. "Hang on … _Kormac_ asked you to use voodoo? No wonder he went and drank himself into a stupor – that must have been incredibly hard for him, especially with his fellow Templars present."

"Yes," Ghor agreed. "I did not know the depth of his faith in me. I only wish I could do more to save his friend."

Saiya, on the verge of asking what the problem was, bit back the tactless question. How could she have forgotten? The loss of Ghor's beloved _loa_ had been a terrible blow, not just to her but also to the entire group, for they no longer had the aid of her powerful summons or potent healing magic.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked instead.

Ghor tilted her head to one side, considering. "Perhaps," she said. "My _mana_ is not gone, it simply lacks a focal point through which to be channeled. I can feel it, but I cannot access it. But if you were to serve as my _loa_ would, allowing me to draw it forth, something might be done."

"Alright," Saiya agreed, but Ghor held up a warning hand.

"Understand that I would ask this of no other," she said. "It has risks. Ordinarily I would never consider asking a human being to serve as a conduit for _mana_ , but you are a rare exception. You spirit-walk, and you have traveled beyond the borders of this world. I think that you will be safe. But I do not want you to commit yourself unless you are sure. After all, you have a lot to lose."

"I trust you," said Saiya. "Just tell me what to do."

"Very well," sighed the witch doctor. "Sit beside me and enter a state of meditation. I am going to place my hands upon you. Pay no heed. All you need to do in concentrate."

Saiya obeyed her instructions, slipping with relative ease into that semi-conscious state of simultaneous clarity and vagueness. She was aware of a warm weight on her shoulders, sliding downwards to her palms. Through the sensitive skin there came flooding a very odd sensation, as though tendrils of heat were working their way up her arms. A peculiar pressure built up in her skull, until she became convinced that her very soul would come pouring out if she opened her eyes or her mouth.

"What do you see?"said Ghor. Her voice vibrated in Saiya's bones.

The monk redoubled her focus, and a shape gradually appeared out of the blackness behind her eyelids. It was a door or gate, with pillars twisted into otherworldly shapes, lit by brackets of green fire. She described it as best she could.

"Open it," Ghor commanded, "and brace yourself."

Saiya nudged against the door with her mind, cautiously at first, and then with more vigor. It swung outwards with much resistance, and she soon saw why – the space behind it was full of shadowy water, which surged forward in a great tidal wave. Her first instinct was to recoil as the wave crashed down around her, but she stood firm, blocking the open portal with outstretched arms, an impossible dam.

 _This is Ghor's mana,_ she thought, amazed at the sheer quantity of it. _Right now, I'm holding it in check. If I release it all at once, we'll both be drowned. I have to do it a bit at a time. Slowly, now …_

She cast around the corners of her mind for a visual representation of what she wanted, and finally settled on an hourglass. As she pictured it, seepage started around her bare toes, little rivulets trickling past her and out into the world.

"Good," said Ghor. "A little more, if you can."

Now she was standing knee-deep in a rushing stream, and it was getting harder to hold back the flood. She clung tightly to the gate as the water level inched higher.

 _Can't … hold on … much longer …_

"That is enough," said Ghor, and with a great effort she pushed the ocean back and slammed the door. Opening her eyes, she saw Ghor's tear-streaked face. The _sangoma_ drew aside to reveal Francis, with a large bat crouched on his stomach, drinking greedily from the infected wound.

"The _damu mnywaji,_ " Ghor explained. "I called it forth from the Unformed Lands."

Saiya gasped in excitement. "That means-"

"Yes," whispered Ghor. "I can summon again."

* * *

Baal felt as though there were insects crawling around underneath his skin. It was a familiar, if unpleasant, sensation, and it signified that he was very close to losing control. Some Hunters welcomed this – encouraged it, even – for the bloodlust made them terrifying on the battlefield. But Baal despised that haze in which he could no longer tell friend from foe, and fought constantly to stifle it. And at the moment, he was failing badly.

What he needed to do was get outside, away from all these innocent people. In the fresh air, he could breathe properly, could empty his mind until every murderous impulse was gone. Alone, he could ignore the hate. He could remain himself.

With some effort, he sat up and pushed back the covers. His clothes were nearby, neatly folded, and he put them on again, wincing as the filthy, damp fabric came into contact with his skin. By now, he probably looked like death warmed over, and smelled like the inside of a demon's ass.

 _Humor, yes. Humor is good. This is all a huge joke … right?_

Limping a little, he made his way past the rows of cots, each one containing its own tragedy, and out through the main gate onto the bulwark. Gawahir had remained behind, head tucked under his wing. The dark thought crossed Baal's mind that even his faithful raven had deserted him.

He headed for what he assumed would be a quiet corner, only to stop dead in his tracks. Caesar was leaning against the battlements.

Baal's world turned red.

* * *

 **Reviews brighten my day, even if it's just a few words! Thank you all so much for reading! :)**


	7. 7 - Catharsis

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part Three: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"So insignificant, sleeping dormant deep inside of me_  
 _Are you hiding away, lost under the sewers?_  
 _Maybe flying high in the clouds_  
 _Perhaps you're happy without me_  
 _So many seeds have been sown in the fields_  
 _And who could sprout up so blessedly_  
 _If I had died, I would never have felt sad at all_  
 _You will not hear me say, 'I'm sorry'_  
 _Where is the light?_  
 _Wonder if it's weeping somewhere"_  
 _\- Akira Yamaoka_  
 _"Room of Angels"_

* * *

 **Just a heads-up, dear readers: this is one of the more M-rated chapters that I've written. Not because of sex scenes (that's next chapter! ;D) but for two reasons. The first is some sexual harassment (not as bad as the attempted rape in the final chapter of Part I, but still a potential trigger for sensitive readers) and then in the last part of the chapter, there is some extreme gore. Extreme even by Diablo standards. I'm just warning you all in advance!**

 **Reviews, as always, are deeply appreciated. Thanks for reading, everyone!**

* * *

Chapter Seven: Catharsis

The wizard hadn't seen him yet. He had his back turned, his elbows propped on the stone before him, staring out over the battlefield. One hand absently twirled his wand, trailing fine particles of ice dust.

Baal's heart was beating erratically. Time seemed to slow. When had he drawn his crossbow? It was loaded, of course. As if in a dream, he raised it, the crosshairs aimed at the back of Caesar's head. Somewhere inside him, a voice was screaming for him to stop, but it was drowned out by the pounding pulse in his ears.

He could not say what would have happened next if Caesar hadn't turned around. The older man's expression went from stunned to alarmed, before settling on a wary blankness.

"Hey," he said. "You're alive after all."

"Kinda throws a wrench in your plans, doesn't it," Baal sneered.

Caesar shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, Baal. I didn't have any plans, except to survive this damned siege."

"Really? Then I guess it was just pure luck that you ended up getting exactly what you wanted."

"What I-"

"Oh, don't play dumb with me, _mage_! You've had your eye on Saiya since the beginning, and look what happens the moment I'm out of the picture. The worst part is, I actually _trusted_ you. I trusted you to take care of her when I couldn't. I guess I learned my lesson."

A spasm of something suspiciously like guilt crossed Caesar's face, but vanished again almost instantly. "So," he said. "She told you about that, huh?"

"Yeah. She did."

Caesar snorted derisively. "I bet she didn't tell you that the only reason she came to me was because of what she saw in the mirror."

"Mirror?" repeated Baal, frowning. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

In answer, Caesar reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a handful of broken glass and shattered fragments of wood. Baal stared at it blankly.

"What is that?"

"It _was_ a hand mirror that was enchanted to show you the love of your life when you look into it. She's had it since New Tristram, I think."

"That … explains a lot," Baal murmured. _Like how she was able to find me in Müqeddas'das, when I went missing after the fight with Maghda. Or how she knew exactly where I was in Kulle's laboratory. So, then … that means I'm the 'love of her life' – or at least, I was at that point in time. What could she have seen to change that?_

He looked at the man in front of him. Had it been _his_ image that had appeared instead? Is that why Saiya had sought him out?

"What did she see?" he growled.

"You," said Caesar, "and another woman."

The Hunter's jaw actually dropped open in shock. "Who?" he demanded.

Caesar shrugged. "She didn't give me a name, just said that it was some old flame of yours. A fellow Hunter, apparently."

" _Vera?"_

"I said I didn't know her name."

Baal's mind was spinning, confused thoughts trying to catch up to each other like a cat after its own tail. He said, "But I never … I haven't seen Vera in _months_! Why would that show up in the mirror? I don't understand …"

"Who knows?" said Caesar. "Could be any number of reasons. A malfunctioning enchantment. Deliberate tampering. Saiya's own insecurities. But the important thing is that she _did_ see it, and she thought you had betrayed her. _That's_ why she came to me. She was hurt, and alone, and I was there."

The rage was slowly subsiding, the crimson tint ebbing away from the edges of his vision, and he remembered how violently he had reacted to finding Marion in bed with another man, how he'd shouted and thrown things and gone straight to the local tavern to fuck the first willing woman he found. He hadn't even known her name, but for half an hour, her body had soothed the sting of Marion's infidelity. Afterwards, he'd felt even worse.

Was that how Saiya was feeling now, he wondered. The poor girl, she'd looked absolutely devastated when she told him. She wasn't to blame, really. It had been a natural reaction, one that he doubted she would ever repeat. If she could forgive him for abandoning her, then he could do the same.

Caesar was a different story. He should never have let it happen. He should have known better. The mere thought of him putting his hands on her, kissing her, whispering endearments in her ear – it was intolerable.

"You stay away from Saiya," Baal rasped, pointing a shaking finger at the wizard. "I don't want to see you near her ever again. Do you understand?"

Caesar narrowed his eyes. "Are you _really_ that insecure, Baal? You're going to forbid us from talking to each other? Are we schoolchildren now?"

"I'll do whatever the hell it takes to keep _you_ away from _my_ woman!"

The bastard actually had the gall to burst out laughing, and Baal could feel the itching again. He stood his ground as Caesar began to walk towards him, frost forming around his hands.

"Your woman? Gods, I wish Saiya was around to hear _that_ little bit of chauvinism. She doesn't belong to you."

"Fuck you, Caesar."

"You know what I think, Baal? I think you're jealous that I was around to comfort her when you weren't. You're jealous that she depends on me, that she needs me in her life. That she wants-"

Baal hit him in the face before he could finish the sentence. It was a punch that Saiya would have been proud of, and it made a very satisfying _crunch_ as it connected. Caesar staggered backwards, pressing the back of his right hand against his nose to staunch the sudden flow of blood. The temperature, already frigid, dropped by a few degrees.

The wizard's expression was murderous, and for one moment, Baal thought that he had finally gone too far, and was about to be turned into an icy statue. But to his surprise, Caesar tossed his wand aside and charged him instead. They went sprawling in a graceless heap, limbs tangling together as both fought for dominance. Caesar was briefly on top, but he had little experience in hand-to-hand combat, and Baal managed to flip him over with ease. Grinding his knee into the other man's stomach, he fastened his hands around Caesar's throat, choking him.

His opponent wasn't totally helpless, however, and Baal vision blurred as a booted heel came down on his recently healed leg. Distracted by the pain, he loosened his hold, and Caesar shoved him roughly away. He sat up, gingerly prodding his nose.

"Ow," he groaned. "I think you broke it."

"Good," snapped Baal. His lip was bleeding where a stray blow from the wizard's elbow had split it.

Caesar sighed. "Feel better?"

About to make a nasty reply, Baal paused with the startling realization that he did _,_ in fact, feel better. The itch under his skin was gone, as was the red haze. It was as if the burst of physical violence had expunged the hatred from his heart, leaving only a strange peacefulness. He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I do."

"I'm glad," Caesar said, earnestly.

"You … are?"

"Yes. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry, Baal. It was a rotten thing to do, I know that. I knew it at the time, too, but I wanted so badly to make her feel better. She was so … gods, if you'd seen her, you'd understand. It was like Kulle all over again. I couldn't bear it. But I swear on my mother's soul that I'll never touch her like that again."

Baal was beginning to develop a sneaking suspicion that all was not as it seemed. "Uh, what happened to _'she needs me in her life'_?"

"I had to say _something_ to make you hit me!" exclaimed Caesar, rolling his eyes. "I must admit, I admire your control. I almost thought you were going to start shooting before I'd even said a word."

"I was," Baal deadpanned.

"Ah. Thanks for changing your mind."

"So, let me get this straight," said Baal. "I was already furious with you, so your brilliant idea was to make me even angrier, pretty much guaranteeing that I'd try to kill you? That might be the dumbest scheme you've ever had."

"Well, it was either that or fall to my knees and beg you to forgive me, and it was obvious that you needed to blow off some steam. I didn't hurt you too much, did I?"

Baal snorted. "As if you could. I've known little girls who pack more of a punch. You'd better let me take a look at you, though."

Caesar removed his hand that was covering his face. There was blood smeared liberally over his mouth and chin. The bridge of his nose was already beginning to swell. Baal pinched it lightly, and he swore and slapped his hand away.

"Yep, definitely broken," the Hunter reported. "Sorry about that. The good news is, you were already so ugly that a crooked nose won't make a difference."

"It's crooked?" gasped Caesar, sounding horrified.

"No, I'm just fucking with you. It's fine."

"Oh." There was a slight pause, and then, unexpectedly, Caesar held out his hand. "Is there any chance we can still be friends?"

Baal climbed to his feet, then pulled the other man up as well. "When will you get it through your thick head?" he muttered. "We were never friends in the first place. Now, are you ready to go inside? I feel like I could sleep for a month."

The wizard retrieved his wand and his hat, which had fallen off in the scuffle. "Alright, I'm ready," he declared.

Rounding the corner, they froze midstride in dismay and disbelief. While they were arguing, the gate to the commons – the only way into or out of the lower levels – had been shut tight. They were locked out.

* * *

Saiya left Ghor to the task of watching over Francis and went to find a spare bed she could use. The rush of joy she had felt as successfully helping her friend summon the _damu mnywaji_ had faded. She felt hollow: an empty seashell, or a tree with the heart rotted out of it. All she really wanted was to see Baal, but she had seen him slip out onto the wall, and she was determined to respect his present desire for distance. After all the pain she had caused him, it was the least she could do.

All of the cots were taken, so after a few minutes of aimless wandering, she curled up on a pile of grain sacks in the corner, chanting a quick mantra for warmth. It wasn't terribly comfortable, but she was so tired that she could have slept on bare stone.

Then, just as the world around her was beginning to fade away, a commotion across the room jolted her back to alertness. A group of soldiers was pushing the gate closed, while their superior officer shouted orders.

"What's happening?" she asked a guard who was standing nearby.

"The Stonefort was taken," he replied. "Those blasted hellspawn carriers just keep dropping demons onto the bulwark, and our men can't kill them fast enough. Commander gave the order to barricade the gate and fall back to the lower levels."

"What about the people who are still out there?" the young monk demanded. The expression on his face told her all she needed to know. Jumping up, she hurried over to the main door. There was a foot-wide gap still, but as she tried to squeeze through it, one of the men caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

"Ma'am, is isn't safe!" he cried.

"Please," Saiya begged, "you have to let me out! My friends are fighting … I can help them!"

"You're in our way, woman," grunted the one in charge – a sergeant, by the patch on his sleeve. "The order is clear. No one sets foot outside this gate, and nothing gets in. Now move, or I'll have you locked in the brig."

The soldier holding Saiya made to lead her away, and she twisted out of his grasp, using the momentum to swing him around and throw him into several his compatriots. They went down in a heap, clattering and clanking against each other. Again, she bolted for the slight opening, only to be lifted off her feet by the burly sergeant. He slung her effortlessly over his shoulder, ignoring the blows she was raining on his back, and began trudging away.

There was a piercing screech as Gawahir came swooping across the room. He buffeted the sergeant's face with his wings, scratching and clawing, all the while making sounds like an enraged kettle boiling over. The man, flailing around in an effort to protect his eyes, struck the raven hard with the back of his hand. Gawahir plummeted to the ground.

"No!" Saiya screamed. She elbowed her captor in the back of the head, though all she got out of it was a sharp ache as the protruding knob of bone made contact with his thick steel helmet.

The youngest of the men picked Gawahir up, dangling him by a leg. "Isn't this Lightfoot's bird?" he asked. "He won't be well-pleased."

"He's out on the wall," replied the sergeant, "so I doubt he'll have much to say about it. Good riddance, if you ask me. I don't like Hunters. Heard too many tales about them going rogue, slaughtering whole villages. At least with demons, you know what your enemies look like."

"What should I do with it, sir?" inquired the soldier, holding out Gawahir's limp body.

"I don't fucking care, Private. Chuck it in the loo, eat it, use the feathers to make a hat; I don't give a damn."

"No, don't!" Saiya cried, unable to stand the thought of Baal's beloved pet being thrown away as if he was a piece of rubbish. "Give him to me. Please."

The soldier began to obey, but his commanding officer stopped him with a raised hand. "Settle down and quit making a fuss," he said to Saiya, "and I'll let you have the dead bird back. Deal?"

From her ungainly position, she did a quick scan of the room. None of her friends were in sight, and it didn't seem as though anyone else was interested in the minor drama playing out in front of them. She was on her own. Realizing that pressing the short-tempered sergeant further would be a bad idea, she reluctantly nodded.

"Good," he said. "Come along, Private. The rest of you, get that damn gate closed, now!"

 _I hate the people here!_ Saiya thought moodily as she was carried, flour-sack style, down several increasingly steep and narrow flights of stairs. The sergeant made little effort to ensure her comfort, and several times her shoulders were scraped against the wall, or her head knocked into low lintels. Every now and then they passed by a man in the Keep uniform, or a servant woman, but for the most part the place was deserted. The hallways seemed to go on and on, twisting and turning in mazelike fashion until Saiya was thoroughly lost.

Just when she was beginning to wonder if this was the man's cruel idea of a joke, they arrived at a long corridor with a tiny, barred window at the end, through which a thin beam of moonlight cast its pale rays. On either side were rows of small cells, separated by stone walls. Each was equipped with a bucket and a pallet stuffed with straw, and nothing else, not even a bracket for a torch. The sergeant unlocked the nearest one, deposited Saiya on the mattress, and shut the barred door again with a loud _clang_.

"Now then, missy," he said, with a nasty grin. "Don't go anywhere! If you behave yourself, I may come back."

Saiya's only response was to spit on the floor by his feet. He leaned into the bars, close enough that she could smell his breath, and hissed, "You're lucky that I don't come in there and strip that uniform right off you. I'd show you what playing soldier will get you, bitch."

"That would be the last mistake you ever made," Saiya replied, her voice as cold and hard as midwinter earth. "I'd break your neck before you could even touch me."

The sergeant snorted and glanced dismissively up and down her body. "Hmph, well, you wouldn't be much fun anyway. Too skinny and flat." He laughed and strolled away, jangling his key ring tauntingly.

"S-sorry about that, ma'am," the younger soldier whispered, hastily shoving Gawahir into her outstretched hands. He scurried after his officer before Saiya could thank him.

Her first order of concern was Gawahir. Sinking onto the mattress (which was unpleasantly scratchy), she carefully examined the bird. To her relief, he was merely unconscious, and his wings appeared to be undamaged.

"Thank the gods!" she murmured, stroking his surprisingly soft breast. She was not especially fond of Gawahir, and the raven had shown equal disinterest in her, but they shared a common love for Baal, and that was reason enough to be glad of his survival. Besides which, she deplored the mistreatment of animals.

Her next thought was of exactly what to do about her predicament. She had no intention of waiting around for someone to come and let her out – assuming that they even remembered she was here. But she wasn't really worried about the actual escape; the cell she was in had been constructed with ordinary humans in mind. A mild blast of the bell would be enough to free her – or even easier, she could simply warp out, though she had to admit that she would relish the property damage that accompanied the former option. She was more concerned with what to do _afterwards._

If she broke out now, the best case scenario involved her wandering around the lower-level halls, possibly for hours, until she either ran into someone who was disposed to help her, or found her own way back to the commons. At worst, she would encounter the same sergeant who had put her here in the first place. And as incensed as she was at the unfair treatment she had received ever since her arrival, she would feel terrible if her continuous defiance caused trouble for her friends.

In the end, she decided to spend the remainder of the night in the cell, and leave when she awoke in the morning, provided that no one had come for her. Her heart longed to be out on the wall, fighting by Baal's side, but it seemed that Fate had other plans. Even if she somehow made it to the main gate without being noticed, there was no way that she could open it without risking the lives of everyone within the Keep. She would just have to trust in the gods to keep her beloved safe.

Removing her heavy boots and steel breastplate, she stretched out on the pallet, but quickly decided that it would be impossible to sleep on. The bedding was, whether by design or by oversight, several inches too short, and consequently her heels rested on the bare stone. There was neither pillow nor blanket. It stank of sweat and urine, and she didn't even want to think about its former occupant.

With a groan, she got up and moved to the corner, sitting with her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. The position reminded her of Baal. He had changed so much since they first met. Or perhaps, she mused, what she had taken for change was actually his true self peering out through the cracks in his hardened exterior.

"Oh, my sweet love, I've been such a fool," Saiya whispered, burying her face in the crooks of her elbows as tears began to well up in her eyes. "Such a miserable, petty fool. I've driven you away, and now I'm all alone, and I miss you _so much_."

But she was _not_ alone. There was a tiny flicker of life within her, precious and fragile, and as long as it continued to grow, she would never be truly alone. She placed a palm flat on her stomach, feeling the warmth even though the chainmail of her tunic.

"I'm here, little one. I love you. The world out here is cold, and dangerous, and sometimes not a very friendly place, but it's also very beautiful. I think you will like it. When you are born, I'll take you to the temple where I grew up, and we'll say a prayer at the head monk's grave. And someday, when you're old enough, we'll travel the world together, and I'll show you the river where your father and I first met, and the city of Caldeum, and the great desert as vast as the ocean. And I'll tell you stories, lots of stories, all about my adventures and the friends I made. And you'll see that even though life is often hard, it can be wonderful, too … and well worth living."

She continued talking, a mixture of memories and promises and desires all pouring forth until her voice cracked and grew hoarse and her eyelids drooped shut with weariness. In the wee hours of the morning, while the refugees huddled fearfully together in the darkened rooms above, while the guards sharpened their swords and said their goodbyes, while the men trapped outside fought and bled and died, Saiya slipped peacefully into the world of dreams.

* * *

Never in his life had Caesar been so glad to see the first blush of the sun's light staining the horizon. He drew in a deep breath and braced himself on the battlements, closing his eyes, feeling the wind sting his cheeks and whip through his hair.

"Alright there, mage?" Baal asked. "Not going to keel over on me _now_ , are you?"

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction," the wizard replied, though his voice was weak. The arcane reservoir that he had labored for weeks to rebuild had been completely drained again over the course of the night. At the present moment, even the simplest spell was beyond his abilities.

He wasn't the only one worse for wear. The thirteen men grouped around them were the only survivors, out of several hundred troops who had been stationed in the Stonefort or Skycrown when the gate was closed. The walltop was strewn with bodies, some laid out over a wide area where a pitched battle had taken place, others piled unceremoniously at chokepoints. Today, while Azmodan's armies gathered themselves for another assault, the weary men of the Keep would work to clear away the corpses, throwing the demons from the walls and burning their own dead. The beacons, which had served to direct and unify the soldiers, would now be used as funeral pyres.

Baal nudged him in the side, jerking his head towards Commander Calderos, who was embarking on what sounded like a bizarre mixture of congratulatory speech and somber oration.

"Right, my lads," he said, pacing back and forth with his hands locked behind his back. "I'd say you fought like demons, but as we've seen tonight, that metaphor is no longer appropriate. _We_ are still standing, while they are providing a nice carpet for our rather bare walls. Now make no mistake; this was not our victory. In case you haven't looked, our foe hasn't gone anywhere. We lost our right hand tonight. Azmodan clipped his toenails. They will come again, and next time it will be even harder, and faster, and bloodier. But we will not fail! Bastion's Keep _will_ stand firm!"

A ragged cheer rose up from the men. Caesar muttered, "I may hate his guts, but I have to admit, he knows how to talk."

"Mm," grunted Baal, seemingly unimpressed.

"Now," Calderos continued. "You are all relieved from duty for the next twelve hours. Go inside, get some food, some sleep, relax a bit. We'll need you at your best come nightfall. Dismissed!"

"That means us too, I suppose," Caesar remarked. "Coming, Baal?"

But his friend didn't answer. He was standing stock still, eyes glued to where Calderos was conferring with the officer who had opened the gate. Caesar, tuning into the conversation, knew at once what the trouble was.

"So, Varlan," the Commander was saying, "what's this about a wench giving you trouble?"

"She was acting like a madwoman, sir!" exclaimed the Sergeant. "Dressed like one of us, armor and all. She tried to sneak out onto the wall as we were closing the gate, and started fighting with the boys when we stopped her. She managed to sprain Anthony's wrist, and gave Dayle a black eye."

"Oh, gods," whispered Caesar. "Please tell me that he's talking about some _other_ madwoman with hand-to-hand combat skills and the stubbornness of a whole stable of donkeys."

"Shut up," Baal snapped. "I can't hear what he's saying."

"I hope you taught her a good lesson," said Calderos.

Varlan puffed his chest out. "Yes, sir. She's locked up down below, awaiting … _proper_ punishment. I thought I might give you the satisfaction, sir. I believe you've had some difficulty with the bitch before."

"Oh, is it that one? The skinny chit who insisted she was a warrior? Yes, I believe she could do with a good lesson in how to respect her superiors."

Caesar shot a quick glance at Baal. The Hunter was shaking with rage, a glazed look in his eyes. As he began to reach for his favorite crossbow, Caesar did the only thing he could think of: he poured the last few drops of his magic into a light freezing spell. It would last only a few seconds, but that was all he needed.

"Let me handle this," he muttered in Baal's ear, and strode over to Calderos. "Excuse me, Commander. The _lady_ in question is a close friend of mine, and she's currently-" He lowered his voice to a near whisper, desperately hoping that his next words would be inaudible to Baal. "-in the 'family way', if you know what I mean. I would consider it a great personal favor if you would kindly grant her a pardon. I'd be happy to reimburse you for your time, and the damages to your men."

Calderos waved him off. "I'm not interested in your money."

In the background, Baal was beginning to thaw. Hurriedly, he went on. "Well then, perhaps in light of the services I have rendered, you might-"

"Can you guarantee her good behavior from now on?" inquired the Commander.

"Yes! Oh, certainly," Caesar lied. "Without a doubt."

"Splendid. Varlan, give him the cell key and arrange for someone to accompany him."

With a sulky grunt, the Sergeant removed a key from his ring and slapped it aggressively into Caesar's palm. The wizard bowed, his polite mask never faltering even for a moment. Ten years in the courts of Xiansai had honed his skills at diplomacy to perfection.

Spinning around, he grabbed Baal by the sleeve and dragged him forcefully away. As soon as they were out of view, Baal jerked his arm away and said, with real venom in his tone, "What the fuck was that pathetic display? Did you not hear what they were saying?"

"I heard," Caesar replied grimly.

"Then how could you stand there and fucking _smile_ at that shit-eating bastard? I thought you had more of a backbone than that, mage."

"And what would _you_ have done, may I ask?" Caesar retorted. "Rushed in half-cocked and start a fight you couldn't have hoped to win? Did you even realize that your quivers are empty? My 'pathetic display', as you so nicely put it, got us the key to Saiya's cell _without_ causing a bloodbath."

"Caesar, they were talking about _raping_ her!" Baal spat. "They deserve to be slaughtered without mercy."

"You don't know for sure that that's what they meant," the wizard reasoned. "And anyway, they didn't, nor will they get a chance to. I think that Saiya's comfort is a lot more important right now that your revenge. Shall we go find her?"

" _I'll_ go find her," said Baal.

Caesar couldn't help the flash of hurt that crossed his face, but he swallowed his pride and nodded, holding out the key. "Of course. Sorry. I forgot for a moment."

"Look," Baal sighed. "It's nothing personal, alright? I have no intention of trying to control your friendship with her, or anything like that. Okay? It's just that I haven't gotten a chance to apologize to her yet, and I kinda wanted to be alone for that."

"Oh," Caesar mumbled, feeling royally foolish. "Yeah, that makes sense. Well, I guess I'll see you later – unless you manage to break your neck falling down the stairs or something."

"Don't spend _all_ your money at the wishing well," said Baal. With a sardonic wave, he turned to go, and then stopped and looked over his shoulder. "By the way … you did a good thing tonight."

Caesar frowned in confusion. "You mean just now? All I did was prevent you from being an idiot."

"Don't play innocent. I saw you help Tyrael when he was surrounded. If you hadn't, he might have died. I presume he _can_ die, since he's a mortal now. Can angels die? I've never thought about it before."

A chill struck Caesar, so strongly he thought his heart had stopped. Memories ran like lightning through his mind: _white skin, so pale and luminous in the dark that it looked like milk-colored glass. Wide eyes, frightened eyes, the rattle of chains, a shattered aching voice, whispering, 'Please … let me go.'_

"Yes," he rasped. "Angels can die."

Baal was staring at him with a very odd expression on his face. "You okay?" he asked. "You don't look so well."

"I'm just tired," Caesar mumbled. "Go on, go find your girl."

Baal didn't look convinced, but to Caesar's great relief, he didn't pry any further. Somehow, he managed to keep his composure until after the Hunter had gone. Then, once he was alone, he buried his face in his hands and wept.

* * *

Saiya was awoken by a loud and persistent individual who seemed hell-bent on doing their best imitation of a rooster. Deeply annoyed, she opened her eyes, expecting to find herself being mocked by another guard. Instead, she saw Gawahir, strutting back and forth in the middle of the cell, crowing with all his might.

" _Cock-a-doodle-doo!"_ he squawked, pronouncing each syllable in a ludicrously choppy fashion. _"Get up, lazybones! Cock-a-doodle-"_

"Alright!" Saiya grumbled, swatting at him. He hopped out of her range.

The first thing she observed (after taking note of how stiff and sore she felt) was that the light level in her cell had changed dramatically. When the Sergeant had left, taking the only torch with him, it had been almost too dark to see. Now, everything was dull and grey.

"Must be morning already," she mumbled, prying herself out of the corner with a massive effort. "Gods, I hope the Keep didn't fall during the night … though it seems like there would be more demons around if that were the case."

She put her boots and armor back on, wincing at how cold they had gotten during the night. Then, approaching the cell door, she lapsed into a state of calm, in preparation for summoning the bell.

Immediately, a foul presence fell over her psyche like a shadow. Chills ran up her spine. There was something monstrous in the vicinity, a malicious energy so strong that she was shocked she hadn't sensed it earlier.

"Gawahir," she whispered, "I want you to scout the area and tell me what you find. I know that you'd rather be with Baal right now, but I'm trying to find my way back to him, and I need your help to do that."

" _As you wish,"_ croaked the raven – perhaps the politest thing he'd ever said to her. With a self-important swagger, he squeezed between the bars and fluttered off down the corridor, leaving Saiya with a difficult decision to make.

"Should I wait here until he gets back?" she asked the empty room. "Or should I go now, before whatever the hell is down here finds me. If I break down the door, I'll make a lot of noise, which might attract attention. But if I wait, and it _does_ find me, I'll be trapped with nowhere to go. Ugh … what would Baal do, I wonder?"

In the end, she opted to wait ten minutes. When the time was up and Gawahir had not returned, she closed her eyes and listened for the echo of the bell. The resulting shockwave blasted a neat hole in the front of the cell, steel bars bending outwards in a pattern reminiscent of flower petals opening to the sun. Saiya stepped cautiously out, glancing around before padding out into the maze of hallways and rooms that comprised the lower levels.

She was hopelessly lost before she even began to walk. It had been impossible to keep track of the route that they had taken the previous night, and she had only the most general idea of where to go: up. And so she set off, opening every door that she came across in search of a staircase. She found storerooms full of crates and barrels, dormitories, and even a forge with molten metal in a huge vat, but no stairs, and no one to ask for directions.

Just as she was ready to scream with frustration, a strange sound caught her attention, drifting eerily down the passage she was in. Half-moan, half-gurgle, it was barely distinguishable as human. Saiya started towards the source of it, brandishing the torch she had taken earlier, the only weapon she had.

The smell hit her first, a thick stench of blood mingling with decaying flesh and an acrid odor, like burning hair. Steeling herself, she peered around the corner.

The sight that met her eyes made her vomit instantly, doubling over as she emptied her stomach onto the floor. She now knew why she hadn't encountered any people during her search: they had all been slaughtered by whatever had passed this way. But it wasn't the mere fact of the carnage that horrified her so much as the condition of the bodies.

They were partially eaten. Limbs and heads were missing, abdomens torn open and entrails scattered. Puddles of some corrosive acid dotted the floor, and the corpses that had come in contact with them had dissolved into a reddish sludge.

Worst of all, though, were the men who were _not_ dead, but who could no longer be counted among the living, either. It was their groans of agony that Saiya had heard. She saw one soldier with the skin melted from his face, and another who had been bitten clean in half, his hands scrabbling uselessly to hold his intestines together.

Her instinct of preservation was shrieking at her to run as fast as she could, but she could hear the unknown creature moving around in the room at the end of the corridor. If she could surprise it, she thought, a few blasts of the bell might be enough to kill it before it could do any more damage. She dreaded to imagine what would transpire should it make its way up to the commons. Holding her breath – partly out of fear and partly to avoid inhaling the awful stench of death – she crept towards the open doorway, flinching with every squelching step.

Past the arch was the larder, where the year's worth of supplies for the Keep was stored. Cured meat hung from the rafters, live hens were kept in crates, vegetables and potatoes were piled high in bins. And in the center of the space crouched a bloated demon. It stood on four legs like a cow, but had humanoid arms as well, though they were too short and stubby to be very effective in combat. The feature that troubled Saiya was a massive mouth in the middle of its obese gut. It was large enough to swallow her in a single gulp if she strayed too near it.

She thought she had been quiet enough, but as she edged closer, hoping to get within range to strike at the monstrosity, it turned around, alarmingly swift for its bulk. Tiny, malevolent eyes regarded her from slits in its metal helm.

"Hello, little maggot," the demon rumbled, in a voice clogged with gore. "Have you come to satiate my hunger?"

Saiya gulped down the bile that was rising in her throat. "No," she said. "I've come to kill you."

Hideous laughter rumbled forth, and the great belly wobbled with it. "Do you know who I am, little maggot? I am Ghom the Glutton, Devourer of Souls, Master of the Feast. I serve the mighty Azmodan. I am-"

"About to be a pile of stinking fat," said Saiya, dropping into a fighting crouch.

With a snarl of rage, Ghom charged.


	8. 8 - The Ravening Beast

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part Three: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Oh sinnerman, where you gonna run to?_

 _I ran to the Lord_  
 _'Please, hide me, Lord!_  
 _Don't you see me praying?_  
 _Don't you see me down here praying?'_

 _But the Lord said, 'Go to the Devil.'_

 _So I ran to the Devil, and he was waiting_  
 _All on that day."_  
 _\- Nina Simone_  
 _"Sinnerman"_

* * *

 **Hello, everyone! First of all I'd just like to say 'thank you' - once again - to all the fabulous folks who keep this story going with their boundless enthusiasm and great advice. You guys are so awesome!**

 **Second, a couple of warnings for this chapter. #1 is in name only ... there's a love scene! Skip it if you like. :) #2 is rather more serious: a continuation in the thread of violence and prejudice against women that seems to have become a running theme in my version of Act III. Needless to say, I do not in any way condone any such behavior!**

 **Alright, enough of that. Enjoy the chapter, and please do let me know what you think! :D**

* * *

Chapter Eight: The Ravening Beast

Saiya rolled out of the way of the incoming attack, grimacing as the bottom edge of her breastplate dug uncomfortably into her stomach. She was forced to dodge again immediately after, for Ghom executed a swift turn, thundering towards her. Taking refuge behind a pillar of solid oak in the center of the room, she watched as he careened into a bin of assorted vegetables, scattering them everywhere.

Within seconds, he had righted himself and was once again stampeding in her direction. It seemed, she thought wearily, that he was determined to run her over.

 _Let's see how he likes the bell,_ she decided, planting her feet. He was almost upon her when she unleashed it, but to her dismay, the jaws in his belly snapped tightly closed, and he barreled through. Saiya leaped upwards, kicking off of Ghom's chest for added height, and managed to grab hold of a ceiling beam. She dangled there, pondering her next move, as he destroyed the beam she'd been standing in front of. It frightened her, that her most powerful technique was becoming increasingly ineffective at dealing with enemies. Freja had cut it in half, Ghom shrugged it off like it was nothing.

The demon was trying to grab her now, but his reach was hampered by his massive body. He tried to balance on his stubby hind legs, short arms waving wildly in the air several inches below her feet. Buying herself time to think, Saiya swung her legs up and wrapped them around the beam, clinging to the underside of the wood like a limpet. On the ground, Ghom was cursing and stomping his feet, but though it made the whole room shake, he could not dislodge her.

 _I need a weapon_ , she thought. _Preferably something sharp that I can put a lot of force behind. If I can get on his back, maybe …_

Then, in the far corner, she saw exactly what she needed: a large meat cleaver with the blade stuck in a wooden cutting board. She began to clamber her way along the beam, inch-worm-like, but before she had even made it halfway, a ghastly odor assailed her nose, making her eyes water. She looked down to see a toxic green cloud, expelled from Ghom's open mouth, billowing upwards. Soon, it would fill the entire room. Saiya took a deep breath and held it, resuming her slow progress. She was almost there, only a few feet more to go.

"You can play all the games you want, little maggot," bellowed the demon. "They won't save you. Your redemption lies here, in my stomach. Come, let me consume you."

Releasing her grip on the rafters, she dropped down, landing in a smooth crouch on the counter. Ghom's horrible mouth split into a wide grin, and he lunged forward with arms outstretched to sweep her up. But Saiya was too quick for him, springing forward between his hands, using the flat top of his helmet as a stepping stone, and thus gaining his back. Raising the cleaver high, she brought it down with all her stretch right at the base of his skull, where on a human, the vertebrae of the neck would be placed.

She was not expecting the blade to rebound without causing so much as a scratch, nearly hitting her in the face as it did. It seemed that Ghom's hide was resistant to sharp edges as well as blunt force.

Frantically, Saiya cast around for another idea of what to do. Astride the monster's back, she was safe for the moment, but her air was starting to run out. Already, bright spots were dancing in the corners of her vision, and an iron band was constricting her chest.

 _Think, idiot! What could his weakness be?_

It was pure happenstance that she discovered it. Ghom was throwing himself madly about the room, trying to shake her off his back, when he suddenly reared up to avoid something directly in front of him: the torch that Saiya had dropped when she escaped to the ceiling. A tiny flame still persevered, and it was this that the demon had reacted to.

 _Of course!_ Saiya thought, with a burst of exultation. _Why didn't I think of that before? He's mostly made of fat, and fat burns!_

Luckily, she knew the perfect mantra. Concentrating all her energy on her hands, she began to chant: _"Netsu johsho … hi moeru … atataka-sa junkan suru … watashi no hada hi desu … watashi no chi moete desu … watashi no tama kasai desu."_

Previously, she had only used the technique to warm her body in cold climates, but when it was focused on a small area, the result was startling. White fire blazed in her palms, though she felt no pain. It reminded her of the holy sword that the head monk's spirit had conjured to slay the Butcher, and even in her wonder, her heart swelled with pride that she was able to use the same power as her beloved master – and without instruction!

Without hesitation, she placed her hands flat on Ghom's broad back, pressing into the yielding flesh, which sizzled beneath her touch. A hideous scream burst from his mouth. He dropped abruptly to one side, and Saiya had barely enough time to leap clear before he rolled over. Sensing an opportunity, she dashed in, ready to rain scorching blows on the great expanse of her foe's unprotected belly. But she had forgotten the gas, and as she inhaled, she was seized by a fit of coughing so intense that it forced her to her knees.

"That was a very foolish mistake, little maggot," growled Ghom. He had regained his feet, towering over her. The marks she had left on his back stood out against his pale skin, ugly, blistering red sores with black edges. Painful, no doubt, but hardly life-threatening. As she struggled to breath, Saiya reflected ruefully that she had probably just enraged the demon further.

There was only one thing she could think of to do, but it was an incredible risk. If it didn't pay off, and she failed, her swift demise would surely follow. And yet it was a gamble she would have to take, for to continue the fight under the current circumstances was just as certain a death sentence. And so, as Ghom descended on her with his maw agape, she held her position and did not flinch.

Then, at the last second, a voice cried her name, and an impact to her side sent her sprawling. She looked up to see Baal. The poison cloud had hidden his approach, and his enchanted boots had masked the sound of his footsteps. Caught totally off guard, Saiya could only stare, aghast, as Ghom snatched the Hunter up and forced him, struggling and shouting, down his gullet.

The sight of the blunt yellow teeth snapping shut after the man she loved galvanized her into action. She rose, clenching her fists to extinguish the white fire, each ragged breath an agony as the gas ate at her lungs. Her voice, when she spoke, was beyond her recognition.

"Are you full already, Ghom? Come on, you missed dessert!"

Plump hands grabbed her arms and lifted her bodily. She had a brief but horrifying visual of a cavernous mouth and vast tongue, strings of saliva running between the fangs like strands of spider's web, and then a powerful suction was pulling her downwards into a wet black heat. The foul flesh of Ghom's throat convulsed around her as he swallowed.

She had mere seconds to implement her plan before she reached his stomach, and the acid there dissolved her like the poor soldiers outside in the corridor. Recalling the advice she had gotten from Baal on what to do if she ever found herself on the inside of a demon, she lashed out with her feet and managed to hook one toe around the hinge of his jaw, preventing her from sliding any further down the tunnel of his esophagus. Meanwhile, she groped blindly around until her fingers found what she sought: Baal's waist. She latched onto his belt, drew him as close as possible, and released the full might of the bell.

The sonorous peal was muffled by Ghom's bulk around them, but Saiya _felt_ it rolling outwards, felt the gluttonous demon swell like a toad, felt the distinct moment when his skin split, unable to contain the pressure any longer. And then suddenly she was lying on hard stone in a pool of blood and viscera, and all she could think was, _there's still danger, have to move! Now!_

But her limbs were unresponsive; the only movement she seemed capable of was a weak flailing. She couldn't see, having closed her eyes to protect them, but from the searing sensation on her hands and face, she knew that she was liberally covered in Ghom's corrosive fluids.

Rough hands seized her by the collar of her tunic, half-dragging and half-carrying her out of the blast area, only to drop her unceremoniously about ten paces away. There was a noise like metal striking wood, interspersed with a fluent stream of curses, and then she was picked up once more and dunked head-first into a barrel of frigid water. In an instinctive reaction, brought on by the panic of being submerged and held down, she fought back and ended up rolling through a pile of flour that had burst free of its sack.

The burning was gone, at least. Cautiously, she cracked her eyelids. Not far away, Baal was upending the remaining water over his head. He appeared unharmed despite their recent ordeal.

Before she knew what she was doing, Saiya had jumped to her feet and thrown her arms around him, nearly weeping with joy. Then, pulling back, she scowled at him and said, "You're such an idiot, Baal! Why did you push me out of the way like that?"

"That thing was about to eat you whole!" he protested.

"I know, that's what I wanted. I figured that the only way I was going to be able to damage him was from the inside."

The Hunter shook his head. "And you're calling _me_ an idiot."

"Well, it worked, didn't it? Besides, I'd tried everything else. It was my last resort."

Baal didn't reply; he was too busy staring at her. Specifically, Saiya realized, at her chest. Puzzled and annoyed, she snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"Hey! Baal! What's the matter with you?"

"Your armor is melting …"

It was true – Ghom's stomach acid was eating through the metal like fire through paper. With a gasp, Saiya undid the buckles that held it in place and dropped the ruined breastplate to the floor. Her chainmail wasn't much better off, with half the rings beginning to fuse together.

"Right," said Baal. "Clothes off, now." He reached for the clasp of his cloak, only to pause, eying the fabric regretfully.

"You gave this to me," he murmured. "I wish I had some way to save it, but I fear that it's beyond repair."

"I'll buy you another," Saiya promised. "An even better one."

In very little time, they stood opposite each other dressed only in their underclothes, though Baal had taken great pains to clean off his boots. They were an odd sight, shivering with cold, their skin reddened, their hair clumped with grime and, in Saiya's case, flour. Gawahir was perched on a wall sconce, having spurned Baal's shoulder.

"Well," said Baal, after a moment of slightly awkward silence. "I suppose we should get back upstairs and find something clean to wear."

"Just a minute," replied Saiya. "Ghom got inside the Keep. That means there's a breach in the walls somewhere. We have to find it before more demons enter."

"That's a job for Gawahir, I think," Baal said. Turning to the raven, he asked, "Do you mind?"

" _Yes, sir! No, sir! Three bags full, sir!"_ squawked Gawahir. There seemed to be a mocking edge to his tone, but he flew off nonetheless.

"That bird does love his nursery rhymes," sighed the Hunter. "Come on, _nuur il'-en,_ let's get out of here. We'll find somewhere to sit and rest while Gawahir does his looking."

They picked their way gingerly across the floor, stepping over and between mounds of flesh. There was hardly a clean spot in sight. Saiya shuddered with distaste as her toes brushed up against part of Ghom's face, his bulging eye staring balefully up at her even in death.

"Ugh, what a mess!" she exclaimed. "Nothing in here is going to be edible now."

"Yeah, it's quite a severe loss for Calderos," said Baal. "He was counting on these supplies to last for months. If the siege drags on, starvation may be an issue."

"Then we can't let it drag on," Saiya said. "I've been thinking … Azmodan must be holed up somewhere, right? Perhaps we should search him out, like we did Belial. If we kill the general, the troops will scatter. Right?"

They had reached the corridor. Saiya kept her eyes fixed straight ahead as they negotiated it, so that she wouldn't have to see the gruesome corpses scattered about.

Answering her question, Baal said, "In theory, yes. But as I told you before, Azmodan is a very different kettle of fish from the Lord of Lies. Even assuming that we _could_ kill him in combat – and that's a very arrogant assumption, frankly – just getting to him would entail fighting our way through thousands of demons."

Saiya frowned. "Hang on. How did _you_ make it through the army camped outside the Keep? I forgot to ask you before."

Baal flashed her a roguish grin that made her heart flip over. "I made use of an extremely fortuitous ice cave I found, which happened to pop me out right next to the wall. Actually, I found something rather interesting while I was down there. Let's take a breather and I'll show it to you."

They stepped into a small side room. Baal lit the torches, giving the tiny space a warm fireside glow. Saiya sat down on a crate, and the Hunter joined her, in spite of the numerous other options. They were so close that their thighs touched.

Baal took hold of a pouch on a leather thong around his neck and dumped the contents into his open palm. It was only a few things, but they clearly held great significance for him: a smooth river pebble engraved with Kehjistani letters; two rings, one silver and the other gold; and a piece of bone carved in a stunning likeness of a child version of Baal. But what really caught Saiya's eye was a gemstone of extraordinary size and strange coloring. At first, she thought it was purple, but as she watched, it changed hues to a subtle blue, and then vivid green.

"What is that?" she inquired, quite taken with it.

"I have no idea," Baal admitted. "I discovered it frozen in an icicle hanging from the cave ceiling. It didn't seem right to leave it, somehow, so I pried it out and brought it with me. I thought to consult a jeweler about it … if we ever get back to civilization, that is."

Saiya smiled. "I know just the man. You may not have heard, but the generous Commander Calderos is currently hosting a group of refugees that arrived the day before we did. They met with Kormac and his Templars on the road, fortunately for them. Our old friend Mayor Holus is among them-"

" _That_ slimy bastard!" Baal interrupted, with great acrimony.

"-as is a fellow who you may remember – an old goat calling himself Covetous Shen. Ghor told me that we saved his life in the aqueducts."

"Shen's here?" Baal frowned. "I'd call that odd. I'd call that very odd indeed. Very well, I shall pay a visit to Master Shen and inquire about this stone … and see if I can divine his purpose here while I'm at it." He replaced the gem and other trinkets in the little bag.

Then, turning his head, he met Saiya's eyes. In an instant, the atmosphere in the room seemed to change. The young monk was suddenly quite aware that they were both nearly naked, clad just enough to preserve their modesty. By the slight hitch in Baal's breathing, and the way his hot gaze flickered downward, he hadn't failed to notice either.

Before they could have a proper reunion, however, there were certain things that needed to be said. Saiya opened her mouth, trying to decide where to begin, but Baal beat her to it.

"I forgive you," he announced.

She felt as though a tremendous weight had been lifted abruptly from her shoulders, leaving her so light and joyous she could have floated like eiderdown on the wind. She couldn't help the radiant smile that split her lips.

"You really mean that?"

"Yes, I do. I, uh, had a little _discussion_ with the mage yesterday evening, shortly after we had spoken. He informed me of a few details that caused me to reconsider my original reaction."

Saiya froze, a rush of horror freezing over her elation. If Caesar had spilled her secret …

"What details?" she asked suspiciously.

"The real reason why you went to him, for one. Saiya, why didn't you tell me about the mirror?"

"I don't know, really," she replied, shrugging. "It didn't seem important at first, and later … well, I already knew that I loved you, and you said that you loved me to, so I guess I didn't feel any need to consult it except on rare occasions. I kind of forgot about it, to be honest."

"Mm," Baal grunted. "If you'd confided in me, I would have warned you not to rely on magical items like that. Enchantments are not always what they seem to be on the surface."

"Caesar thought that it may have been malfunctioning when it showed me … um … what I saw."

"You should have known better," said Baal, although there was no accusation in his tone. "I told you a long time ago that I could never go back to Vera, not after being with you."

"I'm sorry," she said miserably. "I couldn't bring myself to trust you, but _I_ was the one who was untrustworthy. Oh Baal, I'm so ashamed!" To her complete mortification, she began to sob. Moments later, Baal's arms enfolded her in a warm embrace, and she was pulled tightly against his bare chest. The sparse patch of wiry hair below his collarbone tickled her cheek. She could hear his heartbeat, thudding far more rapidly than his calm demeanor would suggest.

"It's okay, little love," he whispered in her ear. "You're only human, after all, and part of being human is to make mistakes."

"Never again!" she exclaimed. "I love _you_ , Baal, and no other. I swear that on my life."

"Good," he said, in a low rumble that made her toes curl with anticipation, "because I've waited far too long make you mine again."

His hands were running up and down her back, callused palms rough against her skin. Saiya turned her face up, and was met with a kiss that started out sweet and tender but quickly became fervent. His tongue coaxed her lips apart. When she gave way, he leaned forward and bore her down onto the wooden crates, keeping one hand cradled against the back of her head to cushion her from the hard surface, while the other descended with swift purpose to her hips and yanked aside her shorts, and then his own.

"I need you," he ground out, pressing himself, hot and hard, against her entrance. Saiya obligingly parted her legs to give him more room. It was uncomfortable at first; they hadn't taken much time to prepare, and her weeks of celibacy had returned her to an almost virginal state of tightness. But it didn't take her body long to adapt to the intrusion, and soon she was rocking her hips in time with his thrusts and moaning into his shoulder.

She might have known that neither of them could last, the first time after such a lengthy separation, but it still surprised her when Baal shuddered and cried out, burying himself deep within her. She expected him to halt, perhaps apologize, and then bring her to completion by some other method. Instead, he sat up, lifting her smoothly at the same time, so that she sat astride his lap. With the change in angle, she felt her climax nearing and chased it desperately. And when it swept over her, she was aware of nothing save the overwhelming pleasure coursing like fire through her veins.

Gradually, she returned to her senses. Her skin felt chilled, due to a thin film of sweat. Baal was sitting motionless, except for the rise and fall of his chest as he panted. His head was lowered, dark hair hiding his face from her view. As she slid off of him, he flinched a little, grimacing.

"Are you okay?" she asked, immediately concerned.

"Yeah, just … sensitive. I'm afraid we've been careless again. Hopefully it'll be alright."

Saiya couldn't help the blush that flooded her cheeks. _It's a little late to worry about that!_ she thought. And then, _Oh gods, I haven't told him yet! I've got to, right now!_

"Baal," she murmured.

"Yes?"

"I … I'm …"

But she was rudely interrupted by Gawahir, who came flapping into the room like a small black tornado and alighted on Baal's shoulder.

" _Found it, found it, found it!"_ he croaked. _"To me, good fellows, to me!"_

"He seems excited," Baal remarked. "I suppose we'd better take a look." Getting to his feet, he offered a hand to Saiya. "Sorry, love. What were you saying?"

But her nerve had deserted her. She merely smiled rather abashedly and mumbled, "I'm just glad to have you back. I missed you terribly!"

His eyes softened, and he kissed her gently on the lips. "I missed you too, _nuur il'-en._ More than I can possibly say."

 _Coward!_ she scolded herself as they dressed (if replacing their shorts could be called such) and left their little sanctuary to follow Gawahir to the source of the breach. It was not far away; apparently, Ghom had made for the larder immediately upon entering the Keep. Baal examined the ragged edges of the large hole, a frown of concentration upon his face.

"We're in luck," he declared. "This looks bad, I know, but a few charges here and here – and here, too, I think – will bring this part of the wall caving inwards, while still maintaining the structural integrity of the whole. _Un_ fortunately, I don't have my explosives kit on me. I'll have to go back upstairs to get it. Saiya, I hate to ask this of you, but do you think you could stay here and guard the place until I get back? No demons appear to have discovered it yet, but I'm sure it won't be long."

As loath as she was to be parted from him yet again, Saiya was so pleased that he had actually asked her to do something potentially dangerous that she nodded at once.

"Consider it guarded," she said, leaning up against one of the few undamaged parts of the wall.

Baal grinned. "Right. I'll make haste. No, Gawahir, _burada dayan._ You may be needed." He sped from the room at a full sprint, leaving behind a giggling girl and a very sulky raven.

Alone, Saiya turned her attention to the outside. She was fairly high above the battlefield still, though it was easy to see why Ghom had chosen this place to break through. A spur of stone jutting up out of the earth led almost directly to the gap. Even as she watched, a small group of ghouls broke away from the main army and started the ascent. The climb was a treacherous one, and two of them fell, writhing, to the ground below, but the other four made it. They clustered around the opening, waving their stout clubs at Saiya, who had stepped out of hiding to block their path.

"What are you waiting for?" she taunted them, spreading her arms wide. "I'm just one woman!"

The largest of the ghouls rushed her. Saiya caught it by the wrist as it swung at her. A sharp twist, combined with a punishing knee to the gut, handily relieved the creature of its weapon. She struck it across the face, and it crumpled. The club was certainly effective, she mused, if a bit too brutal for her taste. It was short, but heavy, and the last three inches were studded with nails that tore cruelly into the victim's flesh.

Sensing their disadvantage, the remaining ghouls pressed forward in a knot. Saiya parried one, but the spikes on her club became entangled with the other, momentarily trapping her. She kicked the second ghoul in the chest to knock it back. As the third closed in, Gawahir shot from behind her and sunk his talons into the demon's scalp. It screamed and dropped its club, flailing at its head in an effort to drive the bird away. A misstep carried it over the lip of the spur.

By that time, Saiya had finally to managed to free her own weapon. With a couple of well-placed blows, she dispatched the remaining two ghouls. The whole skirmish had barely put her out of breath.

"Thanks," she said to Gawahir. "You really helped."

He made a decent approximation of a loud _'harrumph',_ but couldn't resist preening himself a little as he strutted to and fro. It was clear that he considered himself an indispensable asset – not undeservedly, Saiya thought, regarding the pompous raven with mingled amusement and admiration. Baal could hardly have found a companion more like him: clever, brave, and sardonic, with a huge heart that couldn't be hidden by all the gruffness in the world.

 _What kind of animal would I be?_ she wondered. _Something stubborn and scrappy, no doubt. A mongrel dog? Or maybe some kind of wildcat. I am at least_ somewhat _graceful._

With Gawahir's help, she repelled several more attacks while waiting for Baal to return, including a pack of hellhounds that very nearly succeeded in driving her back. She was forced to use the bell for the fourth time that morning, and could feel her energy level fraying as a result. Once she got back to the commons, she would need a long rest and some good food before she'd be any use at all.

Baal, upon entering the room, raised his eyebrows at the pile of corpses, but all he said was, "Looks like you've been busy."

"Quite!" Saiya gasped. "I think I'll sit down for a bit while you do your thing."

The Hunter had thoughtfully brought a spare change of clothes for her. They fit surprisingly well considering they belonged to him: loose in the shoulders, tight at the hips, and about three inches too long, but otherwise perfect. Best of all, they carried Baal's distinctive scent. Saiya buried her nose contentedly in the rough fabric as she pulled it on.

"Stand back," Baal warned her. He'd planted his bombs already, and was retreating to a safe distance before detonating them. When the smoke and dust had cleared from the controlled blast, there was a solid wall of rubble where the breach had been before. Baal nodded in satisfaction.

"This ought to hold them back, though I will have to report it to Calderos." He shot a sideways glance at the young monk. "Watch out for him, by the way. He has a vendetta against you."

"I may have pissed him off a couple of times," Saiya admitted. "He doesn't like women who won't do as they're told."

"That's a prevailing attitude in these parts, unfortunately," remarked Baal, shaking his head. "It comes partly from the Church of Westmarch, which as you know views women to be inferior to their male counterparts, and partly from the harsh lifestyle of the soldiers here."

"That makes sense," Saiya said. "They don't have any female warriors in their ranks, I've noticed, and their only women they interact with are the servants. By contrast, the Barbarians don't seem to value one gender over the other. Freja-"

"I _thought_ I saw a Barbarian fighting alongside you and Lyndon on the battlements," Baal interjected, "but later I decided that I must have hallucinated it. They're notoriously antisocial."

"This one's no exception," Saiya grumbled, though there was no heat behind it.

Baal grinned. "Clearly, there's a story here."

She glanced at him in surprise. "You don't know? I thought for sure that Caesar would have told you …"

"He didn't have much of a chance to tell me _anything_ , once the battle started. It was all we could do to keep ourselves – and each other – alive. Do tell, though. It sounds interesting."

As they began the long walk to the upper levels, Saiya related the entire series of events, beginning with the night that they had been ambushed in the Sharval Wilds. She left out the minor detail of exactly where she'd been at the time, not wishing to give Baal reason to regret his blanket forgiveness of her. By the time the tale dwindled to a close, with their arrival at Bastion's Keep, they were stepping through the arched doorway into the commons.

Something was dreadfully amiss. Saiya could sense it the instant she entered the room: a pervading mood of almost manic excitement, and beneath that, an undercurrent of fear and rage. Everyone was clustered together at the center of the room, though it was impossible to determine why over all the shouting.

"I smell smoke," Baal muttered.

Kormac's voice rose above the clamor in a desperate plea. _"Halt ein! Tu es nicht, ich flehe dich an! Francis, mein Bruder, das ist Wahnsinn!"_ His words ended abruptly in a cry that turned Saiya's heart to ice. She sprang forward, shoving her way through the throng in an effort to reach her friend.

Emerging into the front row of the onlookers, she saw at last what all the commotion was about. She had never been more horrified in her life.

Beds had been broken apart and piled to form a bonfire – or rather, a funeral pyre, for a woman, bound hand and foot, was lying atop the stack. The blaze had not yet reached her, but it was only a matter of moments, for the flames licked hungrily at the dry wood and straw bedding. The woman raised her head, her jet-black eyes glittering in the hellish light.

It was Ghor.

Gasping, Saiya started to cross the open space between crowd and fire, intent on climbing up and dragging the _sangoma_ to safety, but the way was blocked by two solid Templars. Glancing wildly around, she spotted Kormac a few yards away. He sagged limply between several of his Brothers. Blood was bright on his face.

Then she saw Francis, pacing back and forth like a preacher before his congregation, one hand gesticulating wildly as he ranted. "Good people! Do you see the price of sin? This woman is a witch; she has dabbled in black magic and evil rituals, and now she must face her punishment."

"She saved your _life_ , you worthless piece of shit!" Saiya screamed.

"She put poison in my veins!" Francis roared. "She tainted my blood with her witchcraft, and corrupted the heart of my Brother, Kormac, so that he tolerates – nay, even encourages – these sinful practices. I must seek purification, to cleanse my body and soul of her wicked influence. She is a heathen, like all her kind, and she will burn like a heathen!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," growled Saiya. With a strength born of fury, she swung out at the nearest Templar. He staggered backwards with a fist-shaped dent in his chest armor, though Saiya paid the price with bleeding knuckles and an aching hand. This did not deter her, however, and she was winding up for a high kick calculated to knock the man unconscious when, all of a sudden, a bitter wind swept through the room. The torches were extinguished, leaving the bonfire's glow as the only source of light. The temperature dropped rapidly.

"Murderer!" cried a voice that Saiya knew well. Freezing in her tracks, she glanced over her shoulder to see the crowd parting to make way for a lithe figure. Snowflakes gathered around Caesar as he stormed forward to confront Francis, who retreated until his heels were among the coals.

"What do you want, mage?" he asked. "I have no quarrel with you." His bold tone could not conceal the tremor in his voice.

"I want you dead," Caesar snarled.

Saiya shivered involuntarily. She had never seen him so angry; not during all his fights with Baal, not after the debacle in Hakan's court, not even when he discovered Tyrael's true identity. He was absolutely livid, his face pale as a sheet and his eyes crystal-bright.

Francis reached for the short dagger that he wore at his waist, but before he could fully draw it, a swirling vortex of blackness appeared beneath his feet. It was as if a shadow had been cut from the deepest corner of the night, where no star had ever shone. Francis sank into it, screaming as it consumed him. He clutched vainly at the floor, his nails leaving marks on the stone, before disappearing entirely, and the shadow with him.

Ignoring the horrified shouts of the crowd, Caesar strode up to the bonfire and waded fearlessly into the waist-high blaze. Saiya gasped, thinking that he would be immolated, but the fire didn't seem to touch him at all. Bending, he scooped Ghor's limp body into his arms and walked out of the flames.

* * *

 *** Baal told Gawahir to 'stay here'.**

 *** Kormac says, "Stop! Don't do it, I beg you! Francis, my brother, this is madness!" Thanks, my dear Leena, for the translation help!  
**


	9. 9 - Nightmares

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Dreams aren't bad, I had turned back_  
 _I love the girl_  
 _But God only knows it's getting hard_  
 _To see the sun coming through_  
 _I love you_  
 _What are we going to do?_

 _When you go back_  
 _All the second selfless days_  
 _You're in love with him_  
 _I want to see you again."_  
 _\- Gorillaz_  
 _"Every Planet We Reach is Dead"_

* * *

Chapter Nine: Nightmares

"Water!" Caesar shouted. "For the love of the gods, someone fetch me a glass of water!"

Instantly, several members of the crowd broke away and ran to do his bidding. The others parted like grass before a strong wind as he passed through. Apparently, no one wanted to anger a man who had had the power to suck people into holes in the floor.

Concerned though she was about Ghor, Saiya decided not to follow Caesar right away, figuring that the _sangoma_ was in good hands. Instead, she went to Kormac. The two Templars had released him, but stood awkwardly nearby, unsure of what to do in the wake of Francis' sudden demise. Kormac himself was slumped on his knees, face buried in his hands. He was weeping.

"Come on," Saiya murmured, helping him to his feet. "Come with me."

"Not so fast, my lady," said the bulkier Templar. "We'll want to ask him some questions."

Saiya struggled to keep her temper in check. "I don't think this is the time."

"But … a serious crime has been committed against a member of our order, my lady. Protocol dictates that we-"

"I don't give a damn about your protocol!" Saiya snapped. "A serious crime _was_ committed, but it wasn't against Francis. If there's anything you need to talk to Kormac about, you can do it later." Spinning on her heel, she took firm hold of her friend's elbow and guided him away to a quiet corner.

The gash on his forehead was quite a nasty one, but not too serious. Saiya was far more alarmed by the haunted expression on Kormac's face. It was similar to the one he'd worn when she first met him, and he'd been tortured by Maghda's cultists. In his shock, he seemed to have retreated to some place deep in his mind. Saiya kept up a flow of light conversation as she cleaned and bandaged his wound, hoping to draw him out of his shell.

"I want to see her," he rasped at last, cutting her off in the middle of a sentence. "Please, let me see her."

"Alright," Saiya replied softly. "Let's go. I think they went this way."

Caesar had taken the witch doctor out of the commons entirely, to a deserted barracks in a nearby tower. The reason was apparent as soon as they arrived: it was Baal's room. He opened the door for them, looking very grim and serious.

"She's going to live," he said, forestalling the question on their lips, "but it was a close thing. She breathed in a lot of smoke, and there are a few light burns on her hands and legs. Thankfully, Caesar got to her in time."

"Only because you came to fetch me," said the wizard, from his chair beside the bed. "If you hadn't, I would have slept away while they murdered her."

"This … this is all my fault!" Kormac choked out. "I am responsible."

"No, you're not!" protested Saiya, at the same time as Caesar said, with deadly steel in his voice, "What do you know about this, Kormac?"

"I asked Ghor to heal Francis. He was injured, at death's very door … I didn't know that he would react with such violence, or I never would have suggested it!"

"You should have known!" Caesar snarled. "He was a fucking Templar! Your order are not known for their tolerance of others."

"Enough," said Baal, holding up both hands in a calming gesture. "Bickering will get us nowhere. Ghor is alive-"

"Yes," said Caesar, "but thanks to this fool's meddling, she is under constant threat while she remains within these walls. Suppose the remaining Templars decide to avenge their comrade and finish what he started?"

"I won't allow it," Kormac announced. "I would die rather than see her harmed."

Caesar shook his head. "I don't doubt your loyalty, only your influence. It's clear that your Brothers care very little for what you think."

Saiya, who was closest to the door, hissed, "Someone's coming!" Moments later, Commander Calderos burst into the room. He had plainly been roused from his sleep: his normally tidy hair was rumpled, his clothing thrown hastily together, his face haggard.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, glaring at all of them in turn. "Is there not enough trouble with a godsdamned demonic siege on our hands? Ever since I allowed you to enter this fortress, I have had no _end_ of trouble! You resist my orders, you fight with my soldiers, you destroy my property, and now I have reports that you have graduated to wantonly killing the men who have come here to aid us. Now, you had better explain what's going on, and it had better be a _good_ explanation. If it's not, I shall throw the lot of you off the battlements as catapult fodder, and see if some use can be gotten from you after all."

Saiya was about to punch him, and from Baal's expression, she guessed that he felt the same way, but Caesar rose and stepped forward.

"Sir, my friends were innocent in this," he said. "I was the one who slew Francis. I did it to save the life of my companion." He pointed to Ghor. "The Templars had taken it upon themselves to persecute her as a witch. You saw the state of the commons, sir? They would have burned her alive if I had not stopped them."

"Is she a witch?" asked Calderos.

Surprisingly, it was Kormac who answered. "No, Commander, she is not. She is a healer, a wise-woman. In all the time I've known her, I have never seen her use her power for evil. The attack upon her was entirely unjustified. I am ashamed of my order."

Calderos nodded, considering. After a few moments, he said, "This cannot happen again. Morale is low. My men are frightened. If they feel a threat within the walls as well as without …"

"We understand," said Caesar.

"Then I see no reason to take this any further. If the dead man had been one of my soldiers, I would not forgive it, but the Templars fight under their own authority, as free allies. And I am not pleased at their brash actions toward your friend. I should have been consulted before such an extreme measure was taken."

"What would you have said, had they asked you?" Saiya inquired, unable to hold her tongue any longer. "Be honest, Commander. Would you have said, 'Yes, take this innocent woman and do with her what you will? Torture her, kill her, I don't care, she's not one of mine.' Is that what you would have told them?"

"Saiya-" Baal began warningly, but Calderos sighed and said, "Let the girl talk. She's going to regardless. Go on, _my lady_. You seem to take issue with the way that I run my fortress."

Drawing herself up to her full height (which she was pleased to note was only a few inches less than his), Saiya looked him right in the eye and said, "You're damn right I do. I've never met a man more blind to his own interests."

Calderos' eyes narrowed. "How do you figure that?"

"Simply put, Commander, _we_ are your best hope for surviving this war with your precious Keep intact, and because you can't control us, you're doing your absolute best to drive us away. Did you not realize that everyone in this room – with the exception of you and Kormac – has angelic blood in their veins? Alone, each of us a force to be reckoned with, but our combined power is enough to make even Azmodan quail. We destroyed Belial, the Lord of Lies, and his servant, the Butterfly Witch. And no more than an hour ago, Baal and I personally put an end to one of Azmodan's lieutenants, Ghom, who had burst into the bowels of your Keep and was eating his way through your larder. I apologize for their mess that you'll find down there, by the way. Ghom is particularly foul, and it turned out that the only way to defeat him was from the inside."

"Bah!" scoffed Calderos. "Ghom is a legendary demon. Do you really expect me to believe that a pair of malnourished _children_ could have survived such an encounter, let alone emerged victorious? It's a poor joke."

"If that's the way you feel, Commander," Saiya said evenly, "then you might want to consider taking a stroll down to the lower levels. You'll find evidence enough that what I say is true. Additionally, there was a rather large hole in the outer wall where Ghom forced his way in. We repaired it to the best of our ability, but I would advise having some of your architects, if you have any, inspect it for faults. It would be unfortunate if more demons were to discover the weakness."

Calderos stared wordlessly at her for a few moments before spinning on his heel and striding briskly from the room.

Baal said, "That was dangerous. Didn't I warn you about pushing him?"

"I couldn't help it," she replied, shrugging. "To hear him standing there, all secure in his self-righteousness, talking about the attack on Ghor as though the only issue with it was that _he wasn't consulted._ It was too much."

"Well, I think you were brilliant," said Caesar. "You managed to avoid directly insulting him, while still implying that he was making a grievous mistake. Calderos cares about only one thing: retaining his position. If you had challenged or threatened him in any way, he would have rejected you instantly. But by indicating that it would benefit him to garner our goodwill, you piqued his interest. Well done, Saiya, well done!"

Saiya blushed a little at the overt praise. Catching Baal's eye, she noticed a slight frown building on his face and determined to tread carefully in her interactions with the wizard. Baal may have forgiven her, but she knew that she would have to rebuild the bonds of trust that had been broken between them.

"Thank you," she said. "And now, I think I shall do my best to scare up some food. Is anyone else hungry?"

"Sleep before a meal for me, I think," said Baal, yawning. "I'm completely exhausted."

"Can Ghor stay in here for the time being?" Caesar asked. "I don't want to move her unless it's necessary. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not. You're welcome to a bed yourself, if you like."

Caesar sank gratefully down on the bed immediately beside Ghor's and removed his boots and hat. As he reached for the clasps of his long coat, Saiya decided it was time to leave. She turned and jogged back down the stairs that led to the commons.

A group of soldiers were hard at work clearing away the remnants of the bonfire. Most of the broken beds and burnt linens were gone, but there was a circle of blackened stone that could not be purified. Heading past it, Saiya collected a ration of baked potatoes and honeyed ham from the cooks and sat down at a nearby table to eat it. A couple of refugees across from her got up and moved, taking their meals with them. Saiya could hear them muttering as they walked away, shooting covert glances at her over their shoulders.

Her hunger sated, she set out at once in search of something constructive to do, knowing that if she sat around, she would only brood over recent events. Luckily, the senior officer on duty, a man by the name of Captain Haile, was more than willing to accept her offer of help. He set her to work on a crew of people who were restocking the signal fires scattered along the walltop with fresh wood, as most of them had been consumed the previous night. Accepting the first bundle of sticks, Saiya realized with a jolt that they were bedframes.

"Waste not, want not, I suppose," she muttered, heading up to the Skycrown.

There were five beacons, and by the time all of them had been rebuilt, Saiya had walked the length of the battlements several times over. Her feet and back were aching, her hands full of splinters, her nose running from the cold. At Captain Haile's insistence, she sat down for a mug of steaming cider. She nearly choked when a hand slapped her on the back, and Lyndon plopped down on the bench beside her.

"How's Ghor?" he inquired.

"Recovering, I think," Saiya replied. "She was asleep when I left."

"I heard what happened to her," the rogue said. "Fucking cowards. It's disgraceful, assaulting a healer. Especially one who's just finished saving your miserable life! If Caesar hadn't taken care of it, I certainly would have."

"I'd have joined you."

"Ha! How lucky for them that the problem has already been solved! Everyone's talking about how you beat Ghom with your bare hands."

Saiya rolled her eyes. "True, but misleading. What of you, Lyndon? Have you made any progress with our red-headed friend?"

"Alas, no," he replied, with a pathetic sigh. "The fair lady rejected me most cruelly. Apparently she already has a lover, one much more … impressive … than myself."

"Yes, that's right," Saiya recalled, casing her mind back to the days of their captivity. "What was his name? The older man … Halvar, that's it."

Lyndon chuckled. "No, Halvar is her _husband_. She married him for political reasons, but I don't believe she likes him very much. Her lover is a man named Jaegar. He remained behind in the north when she set out on her raiding expedition. But apparently something has gone wrong and she fears for his life – I didn't really understand. Something about a mirror. Anyway, that's why she was in such a hurry to return home. The others weren't pleased with her decision to call off the raid before it even really got started, but none of them dared to argue with the daughter of such a legendary warrior as Siegfried. You've heard of him, I presume? No? I'll tell you the story, then. It might entertain you."

Saiya was not listening. She swirled the cider in her mug, staring contemplatively into its murky depths. At last, Freja's actions on the night of their capture made sense. What a shock it must have been to her, to glance into what she thought was an ordinary hand mirror, only to see a vision of some terrible fate descending upon her beloved. No wonder she had smashed it!

"Lyndon," he said, cutting him off in the middle of a sentence. He looked offended.

"What? If I'm boring you, simply say so."

"Don't be silly. It's about … let's just call her Scarlet, okay? In case anyone's listening."

Lyndon frowned. "What about her? I told you, I'm going to need some time to work out a plan."

"I want you to give her a message, from me," Saiya said. "Tell her that the mirror lies. It doesn't show reality, only what you fear. Can you remember that?"

"Of course."

"Make sure you get it right."

"Do you know who you're talking to?" the rogue asked archly. "I'll pass your message along, darlin', don't you worry. By the way, this mirror that all the fuss is about … it wouldn't happen to be the same one you were using in Kulle's archives, would it?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I thought there was something funny about it," he muttered. "Ordinary mirrors don't show you the only person who's ever managed to break your heart. Enchanted, right?"

"It's meant to reveal the face of your true love," Saiya said, "but it's been malfunctioning lately. It showed me an image of Baal, um, _with_ another woman. And I'll bet everything I own that whatever Fre – Scarlet, I mean – that whatever she saw wasn't real either. That's why it's so important for you to tell her."

"I'll do that right now, with your permission," said Lyndon. "Ooh, I _adore_ being the bearer of good news!" Rising, he saluted her and sauntered away, whistling merrily to himself.

Draining her mug, Saiya was about to depart herself when she spotted a familiar figure wandering in her direction. She didn't think he had noticed her yet; his eyes were focused on the ground, and he walked slowly, without any particular purpose.

"Caesar!" she called, raising her hand. The wizard's gaze jerked upwards. He quickened his pace, approaching her table.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi. Sit down?"

He did, but rather than engaging with her, he stared off into space and rapped his fingers distractedly against the wood. He seemed agitated.

"I'm surprised to see you up already," Saiya said. "It's only been a few hours."

Caesar shook his head. "Couldn't sleep. Bad dreams."

"I'm sorry. Want to talk about them?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay," she said, unable to conceal the flash of hurt in her tone. "Well, if you change your mind …"

"Don't go," he begged, and reached across the table to grab her wrist. His grip was gentle, his palms warm. Saiya sat frozen, terribly conflicted about what she should do. It was apparent that Caesar needed someone right now, but did it have to be _her_? She felt slightly panicked being alone with him.

"Are you afraid of me, Saiya?" he whispered hoarsely.

"No!" she protested. "Never."

"You should be." He held up his free hand, stretching long, pale fingers. "Everyone should fear me. I'm a murderer."

"You're not feeling guilty about Francis, are you? Because if you are, don't. He deserved to die."

Caesar flinched. "That was not my decision to make. You see, love, the problem with taking justice into your own hands is that your vision of what justice is tends to be driven by personal revenge. Francis had wronged me, and therefore I felt justified in killing him. But to everyone else in the crowd, he was an ally, a protector. To some, he was more. Do you see what I'm saying? Violence creates the desire for violence. If one of the Templars came over here right now and cut my head off, what would you do?"

"Kill him, probably," Saiya admitted, and then frowned, realizing that she had tumbled into his trap.

Caesar slammed his palm down on the table, a strange light shining in his eyes. "Exactly! Thus the cycle is perpetuated. The only way out is to break it. Saiya, you have to make me a promise."

"What?"

"Swear to me that if I die, unless it is by accident or in battle, that you will not try to avenge me."

"I can't make that promise!" she exclaimed, disturbed by his morbid request. "Caesar, what is all this? Are you expecting to be murdered?"

"By our own reasoning, my life is forfeit for taking Francis'."

" _I_ never said that. Don't twist my words-"

"Why did he deserve to die, then?"

"Because he would have killed an _innocent_ woman. That's the key. You didn't kill an innocent man."

Again, he winced, and there was a terrible shadow in his face. He muttered something that sounded like, _"You have no idea,"_ but his voice was too low for her to be sure. She let it pass without comment.

"Caesar, listen to me. We've all taken human lives. Baal executed a _child_ because it was the only way to save an entire city! Lyndon shot two men who were going to rape me. Would you say that they deserved death for their actions?"

"No … I would not say that."

"Then you cannot condemn yourself either."

A genuine smile touched the corners of his mouth, just enough to draw them up for a moment. "You're very sweet, Saiya," he murmured, squeezing her wrist, which was still in his grasp. "You really are one of the brightest stars I've ever known."

"Alright," she said, extricating herself as gracefully as possible. "Enough of that."

The wizard looked startled for a moment, and then understanding flooded his face, and with it, a blush of shame. "Please forgive me," he said, abruptly stiff and formal. "I have no right to speak to you like that."

"Oh, stop it," she grumbled, feeling embarrassed now as well. "Can't we just be friends again, like the old days, and put all this awkwardness behind us?"

Caesar's expression made it clear that he thought the prospect an unlikely one, but all he said was, "For your sake, my dear, I will endeavor to try."

"Thanks. Um, not to trample all over a sore subject, but I was wondering … what spell did you use on Francis? I've never seen anything like it."

"Ah." Removing his wand from his pocket, he fiddled idly with it. A few snowflakes drifted from the tip and floated down to the table, where they lay perfectly preserved, unmelting. Saiya waited patiently.

At last, he said, "It's magic of my own creation, actually. As far as I know, no other sorcerer has ever used it. It's done by opening a portal to the space outside and around our world, the black fabric that cloaks us in its embrace. You see it when you look up at the night sky. A living creature cannot survive there. I don't use the spell very often because of the danger … if I'd been in my right mind, I wouldn't have used it then, with so many people gathered around. Any one of them might have been sucked into the portal along with my intended victim."

"I'm really impressed," Saiya remarked. "I mean it, Caesar! I would never even have _thought_ of doing that!"

"Yes, well … when you've got time on your hands …" Suddenly, he sat up as though electrified. "Uh, I should go."

"What? Why?"

"I just remembered something I have to do." His eyes were fixed on a point behind Saiya's back. Surreptitiously, she glanced around and saw Baal making his way towards them, crossbow in hand.

"Stay," she requested, looking back at Caesar, whose face had turned an alarming shade of white. "If you run off, it'll look like we have something to hide."

Despite her bravado, she felt a small spike of nervousness as Baal settled himself on the bench beside her, their thighs touching. He deposited his pack on the table and nodded to them.

"Saiya. Mage."

"That was a brief nap," Saiya remarked, pleased at how casual she sounded.

Baal shrugged. "I wasn't sleeping very well. Nightmares."

"Really? You've come to the right place, then. Caesar was having them, too."

Baal grunted. "Not surprising." Rummaging through his pack, he laid out a bundle of wooden shafts, a pile of arrowheads, a bag of feathers and string, and some packets of colored dye and explosive powder. Saiya watched him work, fascinated as the speed and dexterity of his movements. Selecting a stick from the pile, he split one end with his knife, set the arrowhead, and bound it tightly in place. Then, using a thin metal rod with an incredibly sharp point, he bored a hole at the other end of each shaft and filled the cavity with dye and a tiny bit of explosive powder, before capping it with a small plug of wood.

"What are you making?" Saiya asked.

"A new idea I've been wanting to try," the Hunter replied. "When one of these bolts strikes a target, it will send up a plume of smoke. Yellow means 'swarm of enemies', purple is 'dangerous foe', green is 'safety here', blue is 'retreat'. And, uh … red is my personal distress signal. If you see red smoke, it means that I'm in trouble."

"That's ingenious, Baal!" she exclaimed. "This is a much better way to communicate on the battlefield."

"That's kind of what I was thinking," he said, with a quick grin. Then, catching Caesar's eye, he frowned. "What the hell's _your_ problem?"

The wizard was glowering at him. "You left Ghor all alone?" he demanded.

"Of course not!" Baal scoffed. "Kormac's looking after her. I'm not an idiot."

"Had me fooled."

"You _are_ a fool."

"Look who's talking, dumbass."

"Simpleton."

"Nincompoop."

"Wand-waving cretin."

"Play nice, boys," Saiya interrupted, biting her tongue to keep herself from laughing aloud. They both turned towards her with identical expressions of indignation on their faces.

"We are playing nice!"

"Yeah, we're not punching each other … yet."

The young monk sighed and got up. "Well, that's a relief. I'm going to take a shower. Try not to destroy anything before I get back."

As she walked away, she could hear the dying strains of their banter.

"Moron."

"Buffoon."

"Ignoramus."

"Fool."

"You used that one already."

"Oh, did I? Sorry … half-wit."

* * *

Saiya spent the rest of the day out on the wall with Baal and Caesar, clearing away the bodies and repelling the occasional assault. Bastion's Keep was looking decidedly worse for wear; the boulders hurled by Azmodan's siege engines had decimated large sections of the wall, toppling towers, smashing staircases, and crushing many of the defending soldiers. Others had been picked off by flying demons, or slain by the ghouls that persistently scaled the walls in small groups, causing as much destruction as they could before they were killed.

By the time she fell into bed that night, Saiya was too exhausted to move or even speak, and wanted nothing more than to sink into oblivion for the precious few hours until dawn. But her sleep was anything but restful. In her dreams, she wandered through hallways that looped back on themselves, treading the same stretch of ground over and over again. Each time, the light grew dimmer and dimmer, until at last she was stumbling forwards in complete darkness, navigating solely by the feel of the walls beneath her hands.

And then those too were gone, leaving her bereft of any guide. But just when she had given up hope, a booming voice spoke to her out of thin air.

"We see you have brought the item," it said. "That is good! We are … _udderly_ pleased."

"Who's there?" Saiya called. "Show yourself!"

To her astonishment, the ghostly form of a cow appeared before her. But this was no ordinary bovine – it stoop upright on its hind legs, a crown upon its head, a battleaxe cradled lovingly between its massive hooves.

"Greetings, mortal!" it bellowed. "I am the Cow King. I reign over the realm of Whimsyshire, home to all creatures of fancy. Pay proper tribute to me, and I shall open its rainbow gates to you."

Saiya could think of nothing intelligent to say. "Uh, you're a … talking cow."

"And you're a stinking bag of flesh with no fur!" retorted the Cow King. "Now _moo!_ Oh pardon me, move along. Come back when you're ready to enter the sparkling country of happiness."

The weird spectral figure disappeared, and light returned to the hallway. It was now filled with mangled corpses, the corridor outside the larder. Inside, Saiya could hear the sounds of someone eating voraciously. Knowing what she would find, she crept forward anyway and pushed the door open, just in time to see Ghom bite Baal in half.

She awoke with a sharp scream, jerking violently upright in her narrow bed. The room, bathed in the cold, grey light of dawn, was empty except for her. Groaning, she rose and dressed quickly, making her way down to the commons. Her companions were clustered at a nearby table, eating a breakfast of scrambled eggs and vegetable hash. Saiya grabbed a plate and joined them.

"Morning," she grumbled.

"How did _you_ sleep?" Baal asked.

"Terribly," she admitted. "I had the strangest dreams."

"Yeah," he said. "So did I. And Caesar. And Ghor, too. Kormac seems to have slept just fine. Lyndon can't be found, so we haven't asked him."

Saiya shoveled a bite of hash into her mouth. "Huh."

"Don't you think it's odd that only we Nephalem are affected?" said Caesar.

"Not particularly," she replied, shrugging. "After what we've been through lately, we all have reason to experience nightmares."

"Maybe," said Baal, "but what about the _same nightmare_? I'll bet my last bit of gold that your dream involved a talking cow who demanded some form of payment."

Startled, Saiya's hand slipped, delivering her next bite of food to her chin instead, and jabbing herself painfully in the lip with her fork. "Ow! Damn it!"

Baal chuckled. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"But what does it mean?" she asked, bewildered. "The dream was nonsense!"

"True," said Caesar, "but the fact that we all had it simultaneously indicates that there's a deeper meaning. What I suggest is that we all describe our dreams, or at least the parts of them where this mysterious entity appeared, to see if they form a coherent chain. Baal, you woke first, so perhaps you should start us off."

The Hunter cleared his throat. "Right. Well, at first I was just walking around the ruins of the village where I was born. When I got to the graveyard, this voice said, _"Excellent, you have brought the item!"_ and a huge cow with an axe appeared in front of me. He then went on to say that if I gave him the thing that he wanted, he would open a portal to some place called Whimsyshire, which is apparently home to all 'creatures of fancy'. When I told him to get lost, he said, _"Well well, I see that you won't be bullied! Return when you are ready!"_ and disappeared. The rest of the dream isn't worth talking about."

"Alright," said Caesar. "Thanks, Baal. Ghor, you're next."

The _sangoma_ was still weakened from her ordeal, and the smoke she had breathed in had left her wracked by a dry cough. She said, "I dreamt that I was on the fire again."

Caesar reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry, _rafiki_ ," he murmured, almost too quietly for Saiya to hear. "You don't have to tell us."

She smiled her quiet, sweet smile. "It is okay. I have nothing to fear now. As I was saying, I was on the fire when a voice drowned out Francis' yelling. It spoke of an escape from my inevitable death, promising to take me to the magical land of Whimsyshire if I would give it what it desired. I saw a face wreathed in flames, the face of a cow wearing a crown. When I replied that I did not know what it spoke of, it replied derisively that I should 'hoof it'. Then it was gone, and I was burning …" She trailed off, shuddering.

"I'm next," Caesar said quickly, with a sympathetic glance as his friend. "Mine took place in Hakan's court, but a cow was sitting in the emperor's throne. It also requested that I hand over an 'item' of great value, and said that I would be granted entrance to this Whimsyshire in return. I asked for details, whereupon it told me not to horn in on its business. It departed amid ringing laughter that grew louder and louder until I woke up. So, Saiya, what was yours?"

The young monk related her dream. When she was finished, Baal said, "Well, there are obvious similarities. The Cow King, whoever he is, and the references to 'Whimsyshire'. Also, I believe that we all got a bad pun. _Bull_ ied, _hoof_ it, _horn_ in, _udderly_ … they're all cow-related jokes. Very poor taste for a demon."

"You think this was the work of a demon?" Caesar asked.

"Oh, undoubtedly. It's probably a ploy of Azmodan's, some attempt to throw us off."

"It strikes me that there's another, more subtle thing that all our dreams had in common," Saiya said slowly. "In each one, we were faced with a situation from which we desperately wanted to escape – and here's some cow spirit offering us a gateway into a friendly and pleasant land. But at what cost? Never once was this item identified. That seems very suspicious to me."

"Good point," said Caesar, "but if what you suggest is true, what can be done about it? It is impossible to control what we dream."

"Not so!" Ghor interrupted. "I my native land, there is a technique used among _sangoma_ to combat the succubi and incubi, powerful demons that prey on sleeping people. If I were to host an _ndoto kushiriki_ – a shared dream – tonight, we may be able to learn more."

Saiya was about to voice her enthusiasm with the plan when the sound of boots thudding on stone heralded the arrival of a panicked soldier. Skidding to a halt at their table, he cried out, between gasps for breath, "Sirs, please come quickly! There are terrible noises coming from the armory! Calderos said that I should send for you at once!"

"I'm coming too," Saiya announced, hefting her bladed knuckles, which she had reclaimed from the guards the previous day, with Captain Haile's permission. To her relief, neither Baal nor the soldier had any objection.

Crossing the commons at a dead run, they arrived at the armory door within a minute. A frustrated Calderos was pacing back and forth in front of it, his jaw clenched tight with anger. His eyes passed over Saiya, halted for a moment, and moved on slightly narrowed.

"This is intolerable!" he snapped. "I knew I shouldn't have permitted that woman to perform her blasted experiments here!"

"Adria and Leah had been researching the Black Soulstone," Baal muttered in Saiya's ear.

"I know," she whispered back. "I saw them a few days ago. I was in armor; they didn't recognize me."

"You never mentioned that."

"We had more important things to talk about, _I_ thought!"

"If the two of you are finished," said Calderos, coldly, "perhaps you wouldn't mind earning your keep."

 _Evidently he's decided that we can be useful to him after all!_ Saiya thought, amused. She said nothing, however, not wanting to antagonize the prickly commander into withdrawing his support. Instead, she nodded to her companions.

"Let's do this. On three?"

"One …" Baal counted, readying his crossbows for action. "Two …"

Caesar spun his wand in a tight circle, and glittering, icy armor covered his body. Ghor began to chant softly.

"Three!"

They burst into the armory.

* * *

 **So there you go, a bit of Whimsyshire to lighten the moo-d! (Sorry, couldn't resist ...) Reviews, as always, are deeply appreciated! Thanks for reading, everyone!  
**


	10. 10 - Out in the Cold

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Hello, darkness, my old friend_  
 _I've come to talk with you again_  
 _Because a vision softly creeping_  
 _Left its seeds while I was sleeping_  
 _And the vision that was planted in my brain_  
 _Still remains within the sound of silence."_  
 _\- Simon and Garfunkel_  
 _"The Sound of Silence"_

* * *

 **Thanks for your patience, folks! I've been having some internet issues ... :/ Reviews nourish me, as always!**

* * *

Chapter Ten: Out in the Cold

The scene that met their eyes was terrifying: Leah was slumped to the ground, clutching the Soulstone in her arms, while Adria hovered above her, a pale, milky shield, like a seer's glass orb, surrounding both women. Outside it was Tyrael, his sword drawn. The angel was beleaguered by strange, shapeless demons whose burning eyes left trails in the air as they moved, but he stood firm, unyielding.

Saiya heard a fierce growling, and three crimson forms leapt past her and plunged into the roiling mass of enemies: Ghor's skinless hounds of hell, fighting on behalf of their mistress. But their jaws clamped down on nothing, for the demons had no corporeal form. They were like smoke, or shadows.

"My arrows aren't having any effect!" Baal spat. "They just go straight through!"

"I can't freeze them, either," said Caesar. "This is bad."

Saiya was watching Tyrael. One of the creatures leapt for his face, and he cut it in two in the air. It disintegrated before hitting the ground.

"Give me your bows," she urged the Hunter. He handed them over without question, and Saiya took one in each hand, uttering a brief but powerful mantra that monks used to cleanse objects desecrated by evil. When she returned Baal's weapons to him, the bolts were glowing white with holy energy.

"Thanks!" he exclaimed, eyes gleaming with the boyish excitement that improvements to his crossbows always seemed to inspire in him.

"It won't last long," she warned him.

The fight was soon over, and Adria released her shield. The witch's face was grey with exhaustion, her proud shoulders slumping, but she refused the hand that Tyrael offered her. Grabbing Leah roughly by the arm, she hauled the girl to her feet and shook her.

"What were you thinking, you stupid child?" she hissed. "You could have ruined everything!"

Leah was crying. "I'm sorry, Mother! I … my concentration slipped for a second. Just a second …"

"A second is too long! When will you understand what is at stake here?"

"I _do_ understand, but I'm so tired, Mother."

Adria drew her hand back, as though to deliver a stinging slap, but Tyrael caught her wrist.

"Enough," he growled. "You cannot punish her for being human, Adria."

For a tense moment, Saiya thought that Adria would hex him. Then, sneering, she turned to her daughter and said, "Get out of my sight. Come back when you feel stronger."

"But what about the Soulstone?" Leah whimpered.

"I will deal with it. Go."

The distraught young woman turned away and took a few steps towards the door. Then she lifted her head and, seeing Baal, stopped dead in her tracks. All the blood drained from her face, until Saiya thought that she was about to faint.

"Oh, gods," she whispered. "Oh, gods." She moved slowly forward, one hand outstretched, and then abruptly slumped to the ground at Baal's feet, as though the strings holding her up had been cut. The Hunter eyed her in consternation.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. "Leah?"

"I thought you were dead," she choked. "I thought ... I'd never see you again ..."

Baal shot a nervous glance at Saiya over Leah's head. She nodded encouragingly, and he knelt down beside the trembling girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. No sooner had he touched her, however, than she flew into his arms, nearly knocking both of them to the ground. Saiya clenched her fists, forcing herself to remain calm. She was not especially pleased at Leah's behavior, but it would be childish and petty to complain, especially after Baal had been so understanding about Caesar.

Baal allowed her to hold him for a bit longer before extricating himself with a murmured, "It's okay, Leah, I'm fine." She gazed up at him with a tear-streaked face. Saiya edged forward so that she was within view, and Leah's expression suddenly changed. It became guarded, but before the walls went up, her eyes were briefly venomous. It was so startling that the young monk actually took a step backwards.

"Hi, Saiya!" Leah exclaimed, her voice overly cheerful. "I didn't realize you were here."

"Clearly," muttered Caesar. He was standing in the background, close enough to Saiya that only she caught the words. She thought of reaching back and squeezing his arm, to thank him for his support, but decided against it.

"So, boy," said Adria, directing a piercing stare at the Hunter, "you survived after all. I am impressed."

Baal's face hardened. "No thanks to _you_. You left me for dead, Adria."

"What?" cried Leah. "Mother, is this true?"

"I did what I had to," Adria said. "I would do it again, under the same circumstances. Surely Baal is not so selfish as to place the value of his own life above the safety of everyone else within these walls."

"Don't talk about him like that!" Leah screamed. She was crying again, her hands balled into fists at her side. Saiya had the uncharitable thought that she looked like a child throwing a tantrum. She too was furious with Adria, of course, but since she had disliked the other woman from the first, the revelation of Adria's heartlessness was neither a surprise, nor particularly upsetting.

But Leah was clearly beside herself. Her cheeks were blotched white and red, her eyes brimming over. She wailed, "How could you do that, Mother? After everything he's done for us, how could you leave him? I hate you! I _hate_ you!"

Adria regarded her daughter coldly. "You're making a scene. As I said, it was his life or all of ours. I made a choice. I do not regret it. Besides, he's standing next to you right now, alive and well. I don't see what you've got to complain about."

By this time, Calderos had come barging in, having evidently decided it was safe. He went straight for Adria.

"What the devil were you doing in here?" he blustered. "Our agreement specified that you would be using this room for research purposes, and then only to further our cause – not to summon demons! I want you out of here now!"

"That," said Adria, with deadly deliberation, "would be a _very_ bad mistake, Commander. I have neither the time nor the interest to explain my work to you, and doubtless you would not be capable of understanding it, but I assure you, it must continue. To stop now would surely doom us all. Now get out, all of you, before I really lose my temper!"

As she spoke, it seemed to Saiya that the room was filled with a terrifying presence, unseen but nonetheless tangible. She felt as though a great hand had taken hold of her and was crushing the breath and blood from her body. Stealing a glance at Baal, she saw that his eyes were blazing bright crimson, his lips drawn back in a snarl.

Tyrael raised a hand, and the atmosphere returned to normal. The angel stepped forward, placing himself in between Adria and the rest of them like a shield, though Saiya was unsure who he was protecting from whom.

"Come, friends," he said. "Let us go." He took Calderos, who was nearest, by the elbow and steered him towards the door. Shockingly, the Commander allowed himself to be led like a child. His surly features bore a dazed look.

"What the hell _was_ that?" Saiya asked as they made their way back up to the commons. "I wasn't imagining things, was I?"

Baal had Leah tucked under one arm, pressed tightly to his side. She seemed incapable of walking on her own. He shook his head. "No, you weren't. I'd say we had a narrow escape. Adria is not someone to be treated lightly."

"I hate her," Leah groaned. "I wish she'd never come back into my life."

 _So does everyone else,_ Saiya thought.

Tyrael released Calderos and held his arms out. Leah left the shelter of Baal's embrace and stumbled over to him. He lifted her off her feet, holding her against him as tenderly as if she were an infant. "Oh, child," he murmured. "Dear child."

"The worst part," Leah sobbed, "is that I still want her to love me. I'd give _anything_ for her to love me. When she praises me, it's like the sun coming out. But most of the time, she's just nasty and demanding. I can never do enough to truly please her."

"Then stop trying," said Baal.

She stared at him, looking as taken aback as if he'd suggested that breathing was unnecessary. "What do you mean?"

"You're not responsible for your mother's happiness, and you already know that nothing you do is going to satisfy her expectations of you, so just give up. Let her be unhappy. Focus on what _you_ want for a change."

Leah sniffed. "Thanks, Baal. I'll think about it."

The group divided after that: Tyrael took Leah to get some much-needed rest, while Calderos ordered Caesar and Baal back out onto the wall. He did not expressly forbid Saiya from accompanying them, which she took as the most acceptance she was ever likely to get from him.

"When did you get to be so wise?" Saiya asked Baal as they headed back to the commons to rendezvous with Kormac.

He winked at her. "Well, when a person goes from a terrible relationship to an amazing one, it tends to put things in perspective a bit. When I met you, I realized something – I could have poured my whole self into Vera like water into a jug, and she would never have been full. Some people are just like Caesar's portal into empty space. They drain the energy from everyone around them, but it goes nowhere. If you let yourself get caught up in that, there's no escape."

Saiya said nothing, but took his hand. There was something supremely comforting, she thought, in the feel of his warm, rough skin, his fingers wrapped around hers. When she touched him, he was no dream, no fantasy. He was real.

Kormac was already out on the wall, and there was another man standing with him. As they drew closer, Saiya saw – much to her astonishment – that it was Lyndon. The two of them were embroiled in some sort of conference, which neither seemed to be enjoying. Finally, Lyndon threw up his hands and stormed away, calling over his shoulder, "I might have known you'd be of no use, _schlappschwanz._ If you grow a spine, or a pair of balls, you know where to find me."

"What was _that_?" Saiya asked Kormac. Scowling, the Templar scooped up a handful of snow, packed it tightly into a ball, and chucked it vehemently off the battlements. Saiya watched it fall until, improbably, it struck an imp square on the top of its head. The tiny demon sprawled flat.

"Nice shot!" said Baal. "Hey, mage, I bet you can't hurl a spike of ice as far as I can shoot an arrow."

"Wanna bet?" replied Caesar, with a devilish grin. The pair of them moved off to a better vantage point, leaving Kormac with the two women.

"Something angers you, _rafiki_ ," Ghor observed, laying a hand on Kormac's forearm, which was now braced against the wall.

"It's nothing," Kormac said darkly. "Just Lyndon and his dishonest schemes. I want no part of it."

Prodded by her intuition, Saiya said, "Is it about Scarlet?"

Kormac shot her a pained look. "Don't tell me that you're in on it too, _Schwesterchen!_ Is it not enough to have one criminal in our midst?"

"I do not understand," interjected Ghor. "Who is Scarlet?"

Saiya leaned forward so she could whisper directly into the _sangoma's_ ear. "It's a code name for Freja. Lyndon and I rescued her a couple days ago. Calderos had her locked up in a cage out in the open. If we hadn't let her out, she would have been slaughtered by demons."

Ghor nodded, neither praising the act nor condemning it. "Where is she now?"

"In an empty storeroom."

"I see. And the problem that you now face is how to free her from the fortress without your interference coming to light."

"Precisely," said Saiya. "Lyndon said he'd think of something. Apparently," she turned to Kormac, "that meant appealing to you for help."

His frown deepened, and Saiya recognized the look of Kormac at his most self-righteous. "He wants me to give her my armor and order her out on a 'secret mission' as one of my men," he grumbled.

"Hm," said Saiya. "I can see why he thinks it would be a good idea, but I also get why you wouldn't want to. You'd never see your armor again, for one thing."

" _Ja_ , I knew you would understand. Also, there is the issue of my current status in the Order. I have been placed under suspended arrest."

"What does that mean?" she asked, alarmed.

"Ordinarily," Kormac explained, "when a Templar is suspected of violating the rules of the Order, he is brought in for interrogation. If the Elders determine that the offense did occur, then he is punished. But suspended arrest is a wartime provision. I still have my uses here. They will allow me to continue fighting, and if I lose my life in the process, my name will be cleared, and I will be remembered with honor. But if I survive, I must return to Westmarch and face trial for Francis' death … and for negligence of my duty in permitting witchcraft to be performed in front of me, and doing nothing to hinder it."

"But neither of those things were your fault!" Saiya protested. "It was Caesar who killed Francis. I'm sure he wouldn't want _you_ to suffer for it."

"It matters not," said Kormac. "In the eyes of my Order, I have failed."

"That isn't fair!" To her embarrassment, she was on the verge of tears. But the thought of her loyal friend being dragged before a jury of cold, judgmental old men who cared only for the letter of their harsh law, and not for the people who struggled to follow it, was more than she could bear. She stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around Kormac's neck, hugging him tightly.

"Now now, little sister, don't carry on," he mumbled, patting her on the back. "I am not ashamed of my choices – nor of my regard for you, Ghor. Knowing you has restored sight to eyes that were once blinded by prejudice. I realize now that even though the Templars strive for truth and light, they are driven by fear. My brother Francis could not accept your gift of healing. He couldn't reconcile the idea that something good could exist where he saw only evil."

"I am humbled," was Ghor's only response, though her jet-colored eyes were damp.

Their solemnity was disturbed by whoops of victory from Caesar, who had apparently won the contest, as was evidenced by a group of dead ghouls on the battlefield far below, each impaled by a spike of ice.

"The wind was against me," Baal was grumbling.

"Uh huh, sure it was," laughed the wizard. "Come on, pay up."

Baal rummaged through his pockets, and then began to laugh. "You're shit out of luck, mage," he said. "All my gold was in the vest that got melted by Ghom. I guess I'll have to owe you."

"You knew that from the very beginning!" Caesar accused. "Thought you were being clever, didn't you. If you won, you were richer by ten gold. If you lost, you could claim you didn't have any money. Well, alright, Baal. If that's the way you want to play … in Xiansai, debts collect interest over time. So the way I figure it, you owe me ten gold, plus an additional coin for every day that passes before you pay me back."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Baal protested. "We had an agreement. You can't just change the rules after the fact!"

"And you can't bet with money that you don't have, so I think we're about even."

"Fine," muttered the Hunter. "Saiya, can I borrow ten gold to pay back the stupid mage?"

"Uh-uh, no way," Saiya replied. "If I do that, you won't have learned anything."

"Oh, come on! You're rich now, and I've got nothing! Are you really going to leave me in the lurch like this?"

"Yep."

Baal shook his head in a show of disbelief. "And to think that I thought you loved me. Kormac? You'll help me out, won't you?"

Despite the playful mood of the whole exchange, the Templar looked genuinely guilty as he said, "Sorry, Brother. I deposited the reward from Fahkri in my vault in Westmarch."

Baal started to turn towards Ghor, but she lifted her chin, gazing determinedly off into the distance. It was too much for Saiya, who began to laugh harder than she had in weeks. Soon they were all joining in, Kormac slapping his knee as he guffawed, Caesar wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. Even Ghor chuckled quietly.

"You're the worst friends I've ever had, the lot of you!" Baal exclaimed, throwing up his hands and stomping away with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Where are you going?" Saiya called after him.

The reply floated faintly back, carried on the breeze. "To see Lyndon. Maybe _he'll_ take pity on me."

* * *

The next time any of them encountered Baal was when they returned to the commons for lunch. The Hunter approached their table, limping slightly, and slammed a stack of coins down next to Caesar's elbow.

"There," he said. "That should cover it."

"What happened to you?" Saiya asked. Baal's hair and clothes were disheveled, and a faint but deeply unpleasant odor hung about his person. Several refugees that were eating nearby got up and moved away when he sat down.

"Don't ask," he groaned, laying his head down on crossed arms and heaving a sigh.

"No, I mean it. Where have you been all day?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, I do."

He leaned over to speak into her ear, and she blanched at the smell rolling off him in waves. "I was inspecting every latrine in the whole damn castle, to see if any of them could be used as an escape route. The answer, if you're interested, is an unequivocal 'no' – but it wouldn't have helped anyway, because as soon as your large and charming friend heard what I'd been up to, she said, 'I'd rather die here, in this room, than crawl through shit.' So that was the end of that idea. As least I earned my ten gold."

On the other side of the table, Caesar cleared his throat. "I hate to break it to you, Baal, but these are fake."

Baal's expression was that of a man whose last thread of sanity had just snapped. "You can't be serious."

Holding up one of the coins, Caesar demonstrated how the shiny, engraved surface could be peeled back, exposing a disk of plain iron underneath. Baal swore.

"That crooked fucker! I'll wring his scrawny neck next time I lay eyes on him!"

At that moment, a horn sounded through the Keep, high and brassy and clear. Once, twice, thrice it rang out, drawing the attention of everyone near at hand.

"What's going on?" Baal asked. No one knew, but they didn't have to wait long for an answer. Five minutes after the horn call, Commander Calderos strode out from the armory in full battle regalia, with a red cloak and a lion's head helm. Even Saiya had to admit that he looked pretty imposing, especially carrying his hand-and-a-half sword, a monstrosity nearly five feet in length from pommel to tip. Behind him marched roughly half the remaining soldiers in the Keep, as well as the entire contingent of nineteen Templars.

Calderos came to a halt beside the table where the Nephalem were sitting with Kormac. His face was alight with pride, and he actually grinned at them.

"Well, gentlemen, I'm pleased to report that Azmodan's army has begun to withdraw. Seems we proved a harder chestnut to crack then the hellspawn anticipated. I'm leading a charge to rout them. Care to join me?"

The four of them exchanged glances before Caesar, who had seemingly become the official spokesman of the group when it came to negotiating with the Commander, inclined his head and replied, "With all due respect, sir, have you considered the possibility that this might be a trap?"

"Azmodan is very cunning," Baal added. "It is not beyond his capabilities to lure you out with a false retreat. If I were you, Commander, I would wait."

But Calderos would not be swayed. "Nonsense!" he declared. "If we cower in fear behind our walls, we'll only give him a chance to gather more forces and come back stronger than ever. We must smash him _now,_ while the advantage lies with our side!" A sly smile stole across his heavy features. "I must say, after all the fuss that _some_ of you people have raised about taking part in the actual fighting, I'm a little surprised to see you so reluctant now. Out on the plains, there will be plenty of demons to go around."

"That's what I'm worried about," Baal said, though it was in enough of an undertone that Saiya doubted anyone else could hear him. She herself said nothing, knowing that Calderos was trying to provoke them. No doubt he found their apparent cowardice amusing.

"Well, well," he said at last, shaking his head, "I have made my offer. Don't blame me if you miss out on all the glory. I'm leaving Captain Haile in charge of the Keep. If any of you regain your fighting spirit, I'm sure he'll have a task for you."

As he began to move away, Kormac stood up. Saiya grabbed his arm.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

His expression was full of bleak longing. "I'm going to fight alongside my Brothers," he said. "Perhaps I can regain some of my lost honor."

"By dying?" the young monk demanded.

"If need be."

"Kormac, I won't allow to you squander your life like this! Think of everything you have to live for. Think of Eirena."

It was the wrong thing to say. Kormac visibly winced, his eyes clouding with pain. He murmured, "Eirena is not mine to have, _Schwesterchen._ If she was, perhaps then I would care more whether I live or die. I bid you all good luck, and farewell." Pivoting abruptly on his heel, he fell in step with the departing soldiers.

"Fuck!" Saiya snapped, furious with herself for her blunder. Baal laid a comforting hand over her own.

"Don't blame yourself, _nuur il-'en._ You did your best. Nothing can sway Kormac once he's made up his mind."

Saiya shook her head. She was desperately torn. If there was nothing she could do to stop Kormac – and there wasn't; she had seen this quiet, unshakable resolve from him before – then she wanted to accompany him, watch over him on the battlefield to ensure his survival. But she knew that if she decided to go, she would be the runaway cart-horse dragging its carriage behind it. Baal and Caesar would feel obligated to join her, and possibly Ghor as well. She could not risk their lives, even for Kormac's sake. And so she sat, suffering in silence, her eyes fixed on the Templar's broad shoulders as he walked away from them.

Finding that she had no appetite for the remainder of her food, she left the commons and climbed the spiraling stairwell to the northwest tower. Built partially into the mountain, jutting forth from the side of the peak like the blunt fang of some mighty beast, it was the tallest point of Bastion's Keep. From it, she had a hawk-eye view of Calderos' troops as they descended the lowered ramp onto the snow plains. She watched them move steadily out in a wedge-shaped formation, with the Commander himself at the point, exterminating smaller groups of demons as they came upon them. But the main bulk of Azmodan's horde receded like the tide, staying just ahead of the human forces; and like the tide, they swept back in again. Calderos, a tiny vessel in a vast and violent ocean, had finally strayed too far from shore to have any chance of retreating. As Saiya looked on, tears stinging her eyes and rolling silently down her cheeks, the Keep's soldiers – and Kormac with them – were quickly surrounded and overwhelmed.

"We tried to warn him," said Baal's voice from directly over her shoulder. Saiya jumped, her heart pounding.

"How long have you been there?" she asked shakily.

"Only a minute." He stepped up to stand beside her, almost touching her but not quite. "I'm so sorry, _nuur il-'en._ I would have gone with him, if I'd had only myself to think about."

"Don't be too quick to assume the worst," replied Saiya. "Kormac is both strong and resourceful. He may well have survived."

"It's possible," Baal agreed. "I certainly hope so."

Saiya meant to say, _'thank you'_ , but the words that tumbled forth instead were, "We're going to have a child."

Baal chuckled lightly. "That's a bit far in the future, isn't it? We've got to survive this siege first."

It took Saiya a moment to realize that he wasn't deliberately putting her off; he actually hadn't understood. She turned to look him in the eye. "I'm not speaking theoretically," she said. "I'm pregnant."

The expression of surprise on Baal's face would almost have been comical, if both their futures had not been at stake. After a significant pause, he replied, "Are you sure?"

Saiya rolled her eyes. "Yes, Baal. I'm sure."

"You don't _look_ pregnant," he said, eyeing her stomach, which was as flat as ever.

"That's because it's only been about two months."

She could see him doing rapid calculations. "Shit," he muttered. "Kulle's archives, huh? Or was it the time before that? I knew we should have been more careful."

Saiya was beginning to feel a mixture of irritation and alarm. His response to the news was hardly encouraging. But she kept the bottle of her emotions tightly corked for the time being; the last thing she wanted to do right now was start another fight with him.

"Forgive me, Saiya," Baal was saying. "This is all my fault."

"Forgive you for _what_ , exactly?" she growled, tensing up. "Loving me? This isn't some shameful thing, Baal."

He gave her a startled look. "No, I didn't mean that. But surely you realize that this is hardly an ideal situation. We're in the middle of a war. Either of us could die at any moment. You … gods, you've known all this time! How could you be so reckless? All those arguments with me about how I couldn't spend my whole life trying to protect you, and you knew the whole time that you were carrying my child! When were you going to tell me, anyway?"

The young monk flushed bright red with shame. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've been trying to, but I … I just didn't know what to say. I was afraid of how you were going to react." She couldn't stop a quaver from entering her tone.

"Oh, love." He put his arms around her at last, pulling her close. "I'm not upset with _you_. I'm angry with myself for putting us both in this quandary. Saiya, sweetheart, you must see the danger that you're in."

"No more than you or anyone else. A great deal less than some." She thought of Kormac, on the battlefield far below.

Baal continued as if she hadn't spoken. "At the very least, you have to promise me you won't fight anymore."

She wrenched herself from his embrace. "Certainly not!"

"Saiya!" There was raw fear on his face. "Be realistic, _please._ If something happens to you …"

"Get over yourself, Baal! I could say the same thing to you, but it wouldn't make any difference, would it? No, you're 'called upon' to fight. Why should it be any different for me?"

"Because you aren't allowed to think about only yourself anymore!" he yelled. "For once in your life, you have to consider what would be best for other people instead!"

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Your _child,_ Saiya! _Our_ child! The one whose very existence depends upon your own! Being a mother doesn't start when the kid pops out of you. It begins now. You're already a mother. And I … I'm …"

He was crying.

And Saiya, suddenly and painfully, understood.

"You're afraid, aren't you," she said softly, reaching out to take the hand that dangled limply by his side.

"Of course I am!"

She shook her head. "No, I don't mean about me dying, or anything like that. _I'm_ afraid of that too, you mustn't think I'm not. But you're frightened of what this child is going to mean for us, for our futures."

"I'm not ready." The confession, barely more than a whisper, cracked her heart like an earthquake. Daring to look up, she gazed into wide, sea-green eyes. He looked so young.

"Neither am I," she admitted. It was a relief to finally say it aloud.

"Saiya, you don't understand," he said plaintively. "I'm not good father material. I-"

"Let me stop you right there," Saiya said. "Baal, you can't possibly know that! This isn't like a relationship, where you can fall back on your previous experience as an excuse. You can't say, 'I've been a father three times, and it was always a disaster'. Neither of us has any idea of what it will be like to raise a child. We'll make mistakes. Hopefully we'll learn from them. But in the end, the most important thing is that we give it our best shot. Are you prepared to do that? Because if you aren't …" She took a deep breath. "If you don't want to be a part of this, say so now. I'll cope. I can't say that it won't hurt, but it'll be better than trying to live with someone who doesn't want to be there."

"I could never leave you. _Never_. No matter what." Baal's voice was firm, his eyes glowing with warmth. "I just hope I'm up to the challenge," he added, a bit self-consciously.

"You will be," Saiya assured him. "After all, you had an excellent model."

He stared at her. "I never knew my father."

"Yes, you did. Saif may not have been the man who conceived you, but he _was_ your father. He couldn't have loved you any more if you had been of his own blood."

"Saiya … you have no idea how much that means to me." Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her reverently. "I promise on my life that I will be the best partner to you, and father to our child, that I am capable of being."

She beamed at him. "I couldn't ask any more. In turn, I'll be more careful. Really. I know it was stupid of me to take so many risks."

Baal was silent for a moment. Then, with a gleeful eagerness that Saiya found absolutely adorable, he asked, "Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl?"

* * *

As soon as they returned to the commons, Baal made the announcement of Saiya's pregnancy to Caesar and Ghor, both of whom had the good sense not to let on that they already knew. There was a rather awkward moment when the wizard inquired, with the appearance of attempting humor, whether they would name the baby after him.

"Only if it comes out as ugly as you are," Baal replied. His tone was every bit as light-hearted as Caesar's had been, but it raised a troubling question in Saiya's mind. Would Baal begin to doubt the child's paternity?

It seemed that the same considerations had occurred to Caesar, for he raised an eyebrow and said, "That seems unlikely, to say the least."

The exchange had not escaped Ghor's notice either, however, and at the first opportunity, she took Saiya privately aside.

"I do not like to pry into the personal lives of others," the _sangoma_ said, hesitantly, "but I feel that this is a matter that impacts us all. I am aware that your friendship with Caesar has developed into something a little stronger. I do not attempt to define it; it is not my place. But I must ask: did you sleep with him?"

As always, Saiya marveled at Ghor's ability to speak bluntly about tender subjects without giving offense. "No," she said. "I did not. We had an encounter that turned physical – it was my idea, not his – but we didn't … um … finish. By mutual agreement."

"That is good," said Ghor. "Perhaps it will be easier for him to move on."

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Move on? From what?"

"I think you know."

She did know. That was the worst part of it. And some base part of herself gloried in having not one, but two men devoted to her. Confronted by her own arrogance, she felt sick with shame. And she had failed to take into account the impact it would have on Caesar. It could not be healthy for him to be trapped in a place of fruitless longing for a woman who, despite her genuine caring for him, would always turn to another.

"I don't know what to do," she sobbed. "I never meant for this to happen."

Ghor placed a palm on her shoulder, its warm weight a torch holding back the shadows of her unhappiness. "There is a story," she said, "that we tell in my home village. A young antelope had spent the morning galloping about on the savanna, and she was overtaken by a powerful thirst. She knew where the watering hole lay, of course, as all the animals do. But as she headed towards it, she spied a much closer pool, which shimmered and danced in the heat of the day. 'If I drink from this one instead', she thought, 'it will save me the trouble of going back to the watering hole, and I can sooner return to my play'. And so she ran towards the pool. But as she approached, it kept moving further and further away, remaining just barely out of her reach. By the time it finally disappeared, the antelope had succumbed to her thirst and died for lack of water."

Saiya nodded slowly. In the parable, Baal was the watering hole whose location she knew well, while Caesar was the alluring mirage that could never be captured. Chase after one, and she would lose the other.

"If you truly love Caesar," Ghor continued, "the kindest thing you could do for him is to let him go. His regard for you has caused him much suffering."

* * *

They saw Lyndon briefly at dinner, when he passed through the commons to collect a tray of food for himself and Freja. The portion, slightly larger than the average man could comfortably eat, elicited a baleful glare from the servers. Famine rations had been imposed on all occupants of the Keep due to the large amount of food that had been contaminated by Ghom. Lyndon's excuse that he was bringing food to an injured friend did little to impress the cooks.

"Well, then," said Baal, when they were finished eating. "Are we still going to try this 'shared dreaming' thing? I for one would like to know more about this Whimsyshire business."

"I'm in," Caesar announced. "Saiya?"

"Absolutely!"

"Then let us adjourn to the tower," said Ghor.

Once they were there, the witch doctor instructed them to push four cots together to make a row. She then sat down on one, with Caesar on her right and Saiya her left. Baal took the remaining one on the end.

"It is important that we maintain a physical connection," Ghor instructed. "For that reason, I suggest that we tie our wrists together." With that somewhat difficult task accomplished, they lay down flat on their backs, joined arms resting on the cracks between the beds.

"Now," said Ghor, "relax, and empty your minds. I will speak the words that will guide our spirits together into the world of dreams. Let my words carry you, like driftwood on a river.

" _Nafsi nne kutembea pamoja, katika giza. Katika giza, wanajikuta mwanga. Wao kupata mwanga, na huwaongoa pamoja. Pamoja nao kuingea, nne, katika ulimwengo wa ndoto."_

As she chanted, her low voice weaving soporific melodies, Saiya felt a sensation of calm sweep over her. Opening her eyes, she found herself in a vast, open plain. The sky overhead was full of shadowy clouds, and there was an eerie hush in the air.

"Saiya." The voice had spoken off to her left. Glancing around, she saw the others standing in a group.

"Ghor, this is amazing!" she said. "I know that I'm in a dream, but it's so clear and lucid!"

The _sangoma_ smiled. "One of the functions of shared dreaming is that the dreamers retain their awareness. But be mindful that this is not the real world – you are still subject to the whims of your subconscious."

"Well," said Baal, "at least I've still got my bows. Let's see if we can draw out this bovine monarch, shall we?" Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted into the empty air around them, "Hey, your royal _moo_ -jesty! Come on out! We want to talk with you!"

The space before them rippled, and the ghostly cow appeared.

"We are most pleased to see you again," he bellowed. "And in such number, too! Have you brought what we _mmmoo!_ Pardon me, what we seek?"

Baal shrugged his shoulders. "Noble king, we have no idea what you're talking about. Perhaps you could describe this 'item' for us?"

The cow's already large eyes bulged out even more, giving him a look of outrage. "Insolence! You carry it on you now, there in your pocket!"

"I do?" Baal gave the others a baffled glance, but reached into his vest and pulled out the little leather bag where he carried his most prized possessions. He overturned it onto his palm. Out fell the strange gem that had so captivated Saiya when she'd seen it the previous day.

"This?" Baal asked. "Is this what you want?"

There was a chorus of loud and eager _moo_ ing from all around them, though no other entities were visible.

"Yes!" roared the king. "That is what we desire as tribute. Will you give it to us now, and enter the fey kingdom of Whimsyshire?"

"Don't do it," Caesar whispered. "It's a trap."

"I don't need you to tell me that," Baal muttered. Turning back to the Cow King, he said, "Our answer is 'no', your majesty."

" _Cow_ ard!" the specter bawled. "You dare defy us? You shall pay the price for your … _moo!_ … for your foolishness!"

In an instant, hundreds of smaller cows, each clad in rudimentary armor and carrying a vicious-looking spear, had materialized all around them. As far as Saiya could see, the plain was filled with a teeming mass of angry bovines.

"Ghor," said Baal, "this seems like a good time to wake us up."

"I cannot," replied the _sangoma._ "This being, whatever he is, is holding us here."

"Then it looks like we'll have to fight," Saiya said, readying her bladed knuckles.

"Not so fast, now!" the Cow King cried. "I can't have you herding – er, harming – my loyal subjects. Let's put you on a more even footing!"

He waved the polearm that he held, and Saiya felt the wooden handles of her weapons grow hot in her grip. Alarmed, she glanced down to see that her knuckles had been replaced by two long knives with sharpened pommels. She swung one experimentally and cringed in alarm as a piercing squeal rang out, though she hadn't actually cut anything.

"What the hell?" Baal yelped. "Give me back my crossbows, you asshole cow!" He was holding a longbow made of plain wood, but there were no arrows to accompany it. When he plucked at the string, a chicken popped out of nowhere in a cloud of feathers and darted off between the legs of the nearby cows.

A low chuckle, filled with malicious intent, rang out behind them. Saiya spun, expecting a new threat, but instead she saw Caesar, eyeing the wand in his hand distrustfully.

"This wand is laughing at me," he said. "I'm not sure I even want to _try_ casting with it."

"You should consider yourself fortunate, _rafiki_ ," Ghor said solemnly. Holding up her left hand, she displayed the replacement weapon that she had been given.

It was a small, plump grey-and-white kitten.

"This is unfair!" Baal shouted, glaring at the Cow King. "You've got a whole army, and we're supposed to fight with these ridiculous weapons?"

The king appeared to find this highly amusing. He laughed loudly, snorting and stomping his feet. "If I were you," he said, "I wouldn't be trying to fight. I'd be running as fast as my hooves could carry me!"

"You know," said Caesar, "I think he has a point."

"We're surrounded, if you hadn't noticed!" Saiya hissed. "Where exactly are we supposed to run to?"

"Well, maybe it's time to see what this weird wand is capable of. Stand back." Bracing himself, he flourished the wand in a tight circle.

There was no effect. The wand cackled insultingly.

"Shit," Caesar groaned.

The Cow King raised his polearm high into the air. "Warriors! Attack them!"

As one, the animals surged forward. The four Nephalem abandoned all dignity and fled, dodging beneath the trampling feet. For a dream, it was surprisingly realistic, as Saiya found when a bony knee came in contact with the side of her head, causing quite a bit of pain. She attempted to stab the cow that had stepped on her, but the knife again made that horrible squealing sound, like a stuck pig, and she dropped it.

To her right, she could hear Baal shouting her name, but his voice was growing more and more indistinct as the distance between them expanded. Soon, all other existence was blotted out by the deafening clamor of cows.

* * *

Baal jerked upright, the thin blanket falling into a heap on the floor, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and back. He had severely underestimated the power of the demon that was haunting their dreams. That it could hold them there, trapped … he had been fortunate to escape.

The others, not so much. They were still heavily asleep, tossing and turning and occasionally crying out incoherently or thrashing their legs as they did battle in their minds. Baal tried to rouse them, but was unsurprised when he failed to get the slightest response. His hand lingered for a moment on Saiya's belly, as he contemplated the miracle that lay within with equal measures of terror and exhilaration. His world had changed so drastically in the span of a single day that he was struggling to keep up. It hadn't quite sunk in yet. He would be going about his business as normal, when remembrance would strike like a bolt from the heavens: _I'm going to be a father._

A whimper from Saiya drew him back to the present, and the dilemma he was currently facing. There was only one logical thing to do. Pulling out his knife, he slashed the cord binding his wrist to Saiya's. Then he fetched the gem from his pouch of treasures, coaxed Gawahir onto his shoulder, and went downstairs to find Covetous Shen.

Shen had set up shop in a disused corner of the commons, covering a rickety table with a purple cloth, upon which dozens of jewels of various shapes, sizes, and colors were laid out. The old man himself sat crosslegged on the floor, chipping away at an absurdly large emerald with a chisel and tiny hammer. A pair of glasses, of which one side was normal while the other resembled a telescope, was fixed to his face. There was a small crowd of onlookers, mostly women who gazed longingly at the array of precious stones. On Baal's shoulder, the raven let out an appreciative caw.

"Excuse me," said Baal. "I don't know if you'll remember me, but-"

Shen looked up, one eye monstrously enlarged by his bizarre spectacles. "Of course, of course!" he exclaimed. "How could I ever forget the young man who was so kind as to rescue me from that awful barrel? Pray tell me, good sir, what can I do for you?"

"You can tell me what this is," Baal said, dropping the gem into Shen's outstretched palm. The jeweler held it up against the torchlight, examining it closely.

"Oh my, oh my," he murmured. "What a find! Young master Baal, do you have any idea what you've got here?"

"No," said Baal, torn between annoyance and amusement. "If I did, I wouldn't be asking you, would I."

Shen ignored the discourtesy. "This is the Gibbering Gemstone!" he cried. "Men have lost their minds simply _contemplating_ its mysteries. Wherever did you find it?"

"In a cave below the Keep, frozen into an icicle. Gibbering Gemstone, huh? What's it do?"

Shen fixed him with a milky eye, his wizened face unusually serious. "It drives people mad," he said. "Its mere presence is enough to cause terrifying nightmares, paranoia, hallucinations, and eventually complete and total mental collapse. You keep this thing around, my boy, and you'll be a raving lunatic within a week." There was a slight pause, and then he added, "I'll buy it off you for a hundred gold."

Baal could hardly believe his ears. That was almost twice the purse that Fahkri had given them as a reward for defeating Belial. His first instinct was to jump on the opportunity, but something about the extreme lopsidedness of the deal made him think twice.

"So I'd be getting a hundred gold," he said slowly, "while you'd end up with a jewel that makes you insane? That doesn't seem like a fair trade to me."

"Alright," grumbled Shen. "A hundred and fifty."

Baal's suspicions were increasing by the minute. "Wait, now you're going _up_ in price? How much is this thing really worth?"

"You're bleeding me dry, boy." Shen was starting to get irritated, he could tell. "What about two hundred, and you stop asking questions."

Baal chuckled. "How about _one_ hundred, and you tell me why you want the damn thing."

"I'm a collector, Master Baal. As I told you before, I have a weakness for interesting trinkets."

"This seems quite a bit more than just a trinket. What are you gonna do with it, Shen? What use could you possibly have for a rock that turns people into nutters?"

"Use?" Shen shrugged. "No use, really. I want to study it, that's all. Learn its secrets. Young man, I give you my word!"

The Hunter raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Aren't you worried about the effect it might have on you?"

"Well," said Shen, philosophically, "some would say that to spend a hundred gold on something with no inherent value, I must already be crazy."

"We have a deal, then?" Baal asked. Shen rummaged around in his pack of belongings and brought out a little gilded chest, from which he counted out twenty thick coins, each holding a value of five gold. Baal's pouch didn't have enough room for all of them, and he ended up stuffing money into various different pockets, including three pieces which ended up in his right boot. When he moved, he jingled like a knight in chainmail.

"Alright, Shen," he said. "Be careful with that gem, okay?"

"Oh, absolutely," the old man promised. "I'll be careful as a maid carrying eggs. Thanks again, young master. You won't regret it!"

"I hope not," said Baal, shaking his head. "By the way, don't think I haven't noticed that you followed us here."

Shen gave a disarming laugh. "Following you! Young master, that's ridiculous! I am but a humble traveler on the road of life. I go where my fortune takes me."

"Uh huh," said Baal. "Just remember, I've got my eye on you."

He strolled away in search of some early breakfast, clinking with every step.

* * *

Upon waking, the first thing that Saiya tried to do was scratch a persistent itch at the tip of her nose. She was somewhat befuddled, however, to find that she was unable to lift her hand very far. There was something weighing it down. Sitting up to take a better look, she realized that she was tied to Ghor, who was still asleep.

She turned to the left. Baal's bed was empty, the covers tossed carelessly on the floor. A little curl of cord lay nearby. It had plainly been severed, indicating that Baal had been in such a hurry to leave that he hadn't bothered to untie it.

Panic swept over her in a wave, so potent that she nearly choked on it. _He was gone._ In desperation, she fumbled with the knot on the string that bound her to Ghor, her vision already blurring with tears. Free at last, she staggered upright and went at once to the winding stairwell that led up to the top of the tower. In her distress, she didn't even notice that his pack was slumped beside his cot, right where he'd left it.

Out in the open air, she clung to the battlements as the solid stone was a ship tossed on stormy seas. The frosty air crept beneath her collar and nibbled at her bare toes as she scanned the wall below, and then the battlefield, for any sign of movement. All was still.

The sun was beginning to rise, bleeding into the snowy peaks of the surrounding mountains. The light falling on her face cleared some of the fog from her mind.

 _I'm a complete idiot,_ she thought ruefully. _Where could he have gone? There's nowhere to run to. Besides, Baal wouldn't do that. Not now._

"Get a grip, girl," she muttered aloud. "You'll probably find him down in the commons. _Brr,_ it's freezing out here!"

She turned to go back inside, and clawed feet seized her arms in a painfully tight grasp. Caught completely off guard, she struggled vainly for a moment. Then, in a thunder of powerful wingbeats, the world dropped away beneath her.

* * *

 _* Ghor's dream-sharing mantra goes: "Four souls walk together, into the darkness. In the darkness, they find a light. They find a light, and it guides them together. Together they enter, the four, into the world of dreams."_


	11. 11 - Gone

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Say something dangerous_  
 _Something sweet_  
 _Put your body against my body_  
 _Sway, sway, sway_  
 _Leave your body on my body_  
 _To stay."_  
 _\- The Castanets_  
 _"Sway"_

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Gone

Baal whistled a merry tune as he trudged up the stairs to the tower barracks. He felt that things were finally starting to turn his way. With his earlier stroke of fortune, he had, in one fell swoop, both rid himself of a dangerous item and earned back every piece of gold he had lost, and then some. He could afford to pay the wizard now. The rest, he'd decided he would use to help Saiya purchase a modest house in New Tristram, or wherever she desired to live.

It would have to be a small place, he thought – but not too small, for the child would need room to play freely as it grew. He had not yet attached any notion of gender to it, beyond his original question to Saiya, which she had answered with a shrug and a murmured, "Who knows? Could be either." Secretly, however, he hoped for a girl, a little tow-headed sprite that looked, in his imagination, suspiciously similar to how her mother must have been at that age.

There had been no discussion of names, either. In Kehjistan, it was customary for the father to name the firstborn son or daughter. After that, it was a free-for-all, with both parents, older siblings, other members of the family, and sometimes even the neighbors all competing for the honor. Baal had seen some naming ceremonies in which the beleaguered mother required all guests to write a name down on a slip of paper and place it in a bag, from which the first one drawn was then chosen.

If it was his choice, and the child was a girl, then he thought he would probably call her Luna, after his own dead sister. She would have been about Saiya's age, and he wondered for the thousandth time what she would have been like. Of all the cruel injustices that had been committed that day, her murder had left the deepest scar on his heart.

Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, he nearly ran right into Caesar, who was just starting down. The older man looked distracted and worried, and his frown only increased when he saw Baal.

"Do _you_ know where she is?" he asked.

"Who?" said Baal.

"Saiya, of course. I can't find her."

"She was asleep when I left," Baal replied. "She isn't here now?"

"No."

"Well, she may have come down to the commons, looking for me. I'll go back and check."

Caesar hesitated for a moment, and then leaned closer, murmuring, "Ghor said that about ten minutes ago, she heard a scream from the top of the tower. It woke her up. She said she couldn't be certain, but that it sounded a lot like Saiya's voice."

Alarm made Baal's tone sharper than he'd intended when he asked, "Did you search up there?"

Caesar nodded. "No sign of her."

"And did you hear the scream?"

"No, Ghor woke me after she heard it. Naturally, I was concerned-"

"It could have been nothing," said the _sangoma_ from where she sat on her cot. She looked exhausted. "One hears a lot of strange things in the shadow land between sleep and waking."

"Even so, I'd feel better if we found her," Baal said. "I'll go check in the commons and the surrounding areas. Caesar, will you look on the wall in case she went out to get a bit of air?"

"Of course." He pulled his hat down snugly over his ears, both to keep them warm and to prevent the wind from picking it off his head.

Then, just as the Hunter was turning to go, he felt a presence at his back – something massive and malign. He spun around. The room was full of fire.

"Gods above!" cried Caesar. He had his wand out, spreading ice across the floor to combat the blaze, but it was no natural phenomenon. The flames gave off neither heat nor light. They swirled around, a vortex without a center, and then gathered abruptly inwards. A shape formed: gross, bloated, and hideous, a corpulent torso balanced on four thick, crab-like legs, the mouth a canyon split in the face, the eyes like tiny rubies above it. Golden bracelets adorned the arms, and golden rings pierced the nipples, though the demon's presence was overwhelmingly male.

"Azmodan," muttered Baal. He placed a cautioning hand on Caesar's forearm. "Say nothing. Even though this is an illusion, he can still hear you." Raising his voice, he said, "Greetings, my Lord. Have you come to look upon the ones who are going to kill you?"

The Lord of Sin leaned forward, splaying his legs wide to support his stomach. He spread his arms wide, as if to welcome them. "Bold words, Nephalem," he rasped. "I understand that you have lost something."

Baal stiffened, every muscle in his body going taut. _No, no, no! It can't be!_

"You're mistaken," he said.

"No?" Azmodan affected surprise. "Is there not a fourth member of your group? My spies had informed me so."

"Then you need better spies, my Lord."

The demon rocked back on his haunches, crossing his arms. "Ah. Well, then. Did you hear that, Cydaea? They've disowned her. I believe that the little thing is ours to do with as we will."

"Stop!" cried Caesar. Baal's fingers dug into his arm, but it was too late. Azmodan's eyes gleamed in triumph.

"So she _does_ belong to you. I thought as much. She's a feisty one alright, but never fear. We'll break that out of her soon enough."

Baal forced himself not to react, knowing that Azmodan would be looking for just such a response, but Caesar was not as clear-headed. A frigid wind whipped around the room: an unconscious representation of the wizard's anger and distress. "Touch a single hair on her head," he growled, "and you'll rue the day you were spawned, hell-worm. I'll tear off those spikes on your back and force them down your throat."

"Caesar _, shut up!"_ Baal snapped. "You're making it worse."

Azmodan grinned, a frightening sight. "On the contrary. Your threats amuse me greatly."

"What do you want from us?" asked Baal.

"Open the gates of the Keep to my army."

"Out of the question," the Hunter replied instantly.

Azmodan inspected one of the claws on his large hand, for a moment appearing absurdly like a sullen housewife. "You realize, of course, than I cannot guarantee the girl's safety," he said. "She is most appealing, and my minions are ravenous. If I were to leave her unguarded for but a single moment …"

"Give us twenty-four hours, my Lord, to consider it," said Baal.

The demon's double chin bulged outwards as he nodded. "That seems fair. Very well, Nephalem. I shall return for your answer at this time tomorrow. Should you choose to accept my terms, I shall leave the girl at the gate, as a reward for your obedience."

"Alive and unharmed?"

There was something deeply unpleasant in Azmodan's smile when he said, "Naturally."

"And if we refuse?"

The Lord of Sin chuckled. "Then I think you will never see her again. There will be nothing left of her to see!"

He vanished in a burst of the same fire which had heralded his appearance. As soon as the room was clear, Caesar spun on Baal with a look of desperation in his eyes. "You didn't really mean it, did you?" he said. "There's no way we're going to sit here twiddling our thumbs for an entire day, with Saiya in the clutches of that … that _monster_!"

"That's all we _can_ do," Baal answered, deliberately raising his voice. "He's got our hands tied, Caesar."

"I don't believe this." The wizard gripped his head in his hands. "You're actually thinking about doing what he said. Betraying everyone. Baal, there are women here, and children! You can't condemn them to death!"

"I'd do anything to save Saiya. Wouldn't you?"

" _I_ would go and get her back. I don't care how many hellspawn I have to slaughter. You know as well as I do that Azmodan isn't going to honor any bargain we make. Why play his games?"

"How far do you think you would get? A lone mage against thousands of demons. You'd get killed before your feet touched the battlefield."

"The two of us together-"

" _No_ , Caesar. We do this my way." In one swift movement, he grabbed the front of his friend's robe and pulled him forward, so that his mouth was pressed to Caesar's ear. "How big a fool are you?" he whispered. "He's still listening to everything we say."

"You're only saying that because you're a coward!" Caesar cried. With a wink so quick Baal almost missed it, he breathed, "So what are we _really_ going to do?"

"Better to be a coward than an idiot with soup for brains!" And then, "We're going to go after her, of course. It's the only thing to do."

In this way, they carried out two conversations simultaneously: the first one, in loud and combative voices, meant to deceive, and the second one to formulate their plan of action. Ghor, catching on, came over to join the fray in the guise of peace-keeper, imploring both of them to stop fighting, while secretly pledging her assistance to their undertaking. They decided to depart immediately, the three of them, without speaking to anyone else.

As they were gathering the few items they would need for their journey, there was a light step in the stairwell. They froze, not knowing who to expect, but it turned out to be Lyndon. Seeing the three of them obviously geared for battle, he raised an eyebrow.

"Going somewhere?"

"Just out onto the wall," Baal said smoothly. They had already mutually agreed not to involve Lyndon in the operation.

"It's our turn on the duty roster," Caesar added.

"Right," said Lyndon. "Well, I won't hold you up. I just wondered if I might ask a favor from you, mage."

"Me?" Caesar asked, pointing to himself. He sounded surprised.

"Yeah. I was thinking … you know how to teleport, right? It should be pretty simple for you to warp Scarlet to a safe location outside the walls without anyone being the wiser. What do you say? I'll make it worth your while."

Caesar leveled an unimpressed look at him. "You know," he remarked, "I'd be a lot more inclined to help you out, Lyndon, if you would stop referring to me as 'mage'."

This was not the objection that the rogue had been expecting, to judge by the quizzical expression on his face. "Eh?" he said.

"Technically, I'm a wizard," Caesar continued. "There is a difference, something that both you and Baal really seem to struggle with. You wouldn't call Kormac a 'Crusader', would you?"

"I'll call him whatever I like," Lyndon smirked. "But I take your point. Would you please, Master Wizard, consider aiding me in my noble cause to rescue a beautiful woman from cruel captivity?" Then, noticing the sudden hush that fell over the room, he said, "What?"

"Azmodan's got Saiya," Baal said. He felt his heart clench as he uttered the words, finally acknowledging that it was true. His worst nightmare. He could not allow himself to dwell on it, lest he lose his sanity. Instead, he forced the knowledge deep into his mind, behind the wall where he kept all that was too painful to think about: the memories of his family, and of Vera.

"Oh gods," groaned Lyndon. "The poor girl! How did it happen?"

"We do not know for certain," said Ghor, "but we think she was snatched from the top of the tower by a winged demon, and carried thus to the enemy's lair."

"What did you want Caesar to do?" Baal asked suddenly. "Warp the Barbarian to safety?"

Lyndon looked disconcerted by the shift in subject, but he said, "Yes. I hate to ask, but I'm really running out of options."

"He'll do it," said Baal.

"What?" yelped Caesar. "Don't volunteer me for things!"

"But you've got to do something for us in exchange," the Hunter continued, ignoring Caesar's glare.

"Name it," said Lyndon.

"It could cost you your life," Baal warned.

Lyndon shrugged carelessly. "I gave up on that a long time ago. Right around the time I threw in with you lot, actually."

"Right, then. How much do you know about catapults?"

* * *

Caesar was in agony. The thought of Saiya at the mercy of those fiends made him sick to his stomach, and his imagination, which was exceptionally active, conjured up vivid images of the tortures that she would be undergoing. Unlike Baal, he had not developed the ability to lock away his fears, but neither did he feel comfortable voicing them aloud. So he frayed, like a rope stretched to the breaking point, and wondered despondently how his life had gotten so fucked up.

He didn't understand where it came from, this aching passion, this feeling that she completed him, made him a better person. He'd been with many women throughout his life, sometimes serious, mostly not. But he'd never _wanted_ anyone as badly as he did now, with his whole being. Fed by the secret springs of her friendship, his desire had taken root and blossomed into the most ardent love he had ever experienced – only to be cut down in its prime, when he realized that she would never be his. With nowhere to go, no outlet or redirection, it built and built until he felt utterly consumed by it.

Ghor had told him about the conversation she'd had with Saiya, and the advice she had given her. Caesar couldn't have agreed more. Let her be rid of him, and his unasked-for adulation! He was determined to disappear from her life entirely, once they were away from this awful place, for he understood only too well the burden that she carried as long as he was around. Ghor had described Saiya to him as a bird with a stone tied to its leg, unable to fly free – the stone, of course, being the weight of her feelings for him. The witch doctor thought them to be very real, something which gladdened Caesar's poor, bruised heart even as it dragged his pride and self-worth through the mud. He couldn't help feeling pleased that she loved him in some way, even if it was not what he craved from her. That, he would never have; it belonged to one man only, and rightfully so. But though her love warmed him, it also burned, for he recognized how unfair and hurtful the situation was to all three of them, and Baal most of all.

By rights he should despise the Hunter as his romantic rival, and yet he couldn't. Saiya had made brothers of them, for better or for worse. They were united in their caring for her. Caesar felt no rancor about it – how could he resent the loss of something he'd never had in the first place? He wished only the best for both of them, and thus he was determined to remove the main obstacle to their happiness: himself.

The sound of Ghor's voice startled him out of his melancholy musings. She was offering him a sandwich wrapped in a piece of waxed paper. He took it and thanked her automatically, the sound of his own voice dull in his ears.

"Do not think of it, _rafiki_ ," said Ghor, ever perceptive. "It will only cloud your mind."

"I can't help it," Caesar muttered. "You know as well as I do what's happening to her, right now as we speak. How can I just blot that out?"

"I know nothing for certain," replied the _sangoma._ "Saiya is very capable. Who is to say that she has not escaped her captors?" She laid a hand on his arm. "Come now. We must join the others."

Baal and Lyndon were already out on the wall, having gone to fetch the Barbarian from the storage room where she had been hiding. Lyndon had "borrowed" one of Tyrael's spare cloaks, and wearing it, the woman could be easily mistaken for him, if viewed from behind and at a distance. Under the circumstances, it was as good a disguise as possible.

The Barbarian gave Caesar and Ghor a scornful once-over and leaned down to whisper something in Lyndon's ear. He chuckled.

"I'm sure they don't think for a moment that you've forgotten them, darlin'." Winking at them, he added, "Go on then, say hello – she won't bite."

"What's the point?" Caesar grumbled. "She can't speak Khanduran anyway."

"I understand," said the Barbarian. "A little. Lyndon teach me." Her accent was thick, as though she was spitting the words rather than saying them.

Caught off guard, Caesar's innate manners prodded him into action. "Ah, sorry. I meant no offense. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, uh …"

"Freja." Abruptly, she thrust out a hand, and Caesar flinched backwards before realizing she was offering it to him to shake. Abashed, he took it. Her grip was surprisingly gentle.

"Sorry," he said again. "I didn't really expect …" He trailed off, unsure of how to proceed without further insulting her.

Freja looked confused. "Lyndon say is polite to hold hand. Southern ritual."

"Shake, darlin'," the rogue interjected. "You're shaking his hand, not holding it. Two very different things."

"Let's get going, shall we?" said Baal, with a terse edge to his voice.

"Right," Caesar said. "Hold onto me, everyone. I'll take us down. Have you ever warped before, Freja?"

"What is 'warp'?"

"Teleportation? Going from one place to another instantaneously?"

 _"Premiestnenie_ , _"_ said Lyndon.

She nodded in comprehension. "Oh. Yes, I do that before."

"Good, then you know what to expect. Is everybody ready?"

Ghor held on to his right hand, with Baal attached to her, and Lyndon and Freja took the other side. Taking a deep breath, Caesar began to weave the spell. He had never particularly enjoyed this kind of magic; it was very draining on his arcane reservoir, and it always made him feel vaguely nauseous, especially when he had more than one passenger.

Distracted as he was by thoughts of Saiya, it was not his best effort. When they materialized rather jarringly half a foot above the earth, Ghor's fingers were clamped down on his arm like a vise. Lyndon muttered, "You've lost your touch, mage."

"I'm a wizard!" Caesar snapped. "And I'd like to see _you_ climb down the wall carrying the four of _us_ on your back! It requires about as much effort."

The rogue held up his hand in surrender. "Alright, easy does it. I'm just saying, there was no need to drop us."

"Lyndon," said Baal, "do you remember your mission?"

"As if I'd forget something which will probably be the death of me," Lyndon snorted.

At that, Freja turned towards him, her expression for the first time showing something other than disdain. She said, _"_ _Myslíš že zomrieš, Lyndon?"_

" _Je to možné,"_ he replied.

To Lyndon's apparent astonishment as well as everyone else's, Freja placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned down to press her forehead against his own. _"_ _Potom nech tvoja duša nájde miesto v sieniach mojich predkov,"_ she said.

He stood frozen for a moment, eyes closed. When he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion. _"_ _To je pre mňa obrovská česť, Freja. Neviem ako sa ti môžem zavďačiť."_

 _"Neďakuj,"_ she said, with a grin. _"Sám si sa o to zaslúžil."_

"We'll part from you here, then," Baal said. "Good luck, friend."

"And you," said Lyndon, sincerely. "Bring our little girl back safely."

The Hunter nodded curtly. Drawing both bows, he departed across the battlefield in the direction of the Korsikk Bridge, with Caesar, Ghor, and Freja marching behind him.

* * *

Lyndon picked his way carefully around the outskirts of a rock outcropping. He was good at avoiding notice when he wanted to, though this was certainly the most challenging task he had yet faced. He was to sabotage the war machines that had been brought in the previous night: three ballistas, and a great trebuchet. Baal had learned about them early that morning from Captain Haile, who was most concerned about the damage they would do once they were fully assembled.

It was a dangerous mission, where discovery equaled almost certain death, and it had to be carried out in broad daylight, because it was meant to draw Azmodan's attention away from the little group of humans penetrating into the very heart of his domain. Ordinarily, Lyndon would never have agreed. Regardless of what he told Baal, he valued his own life very highly, and never liked to place it in harm's way. But by doing this, he was helping two women who had become dear to him. Surely, he thought, that was a cause worth dying for!

He could see the first ballista not too far away – a mighty construction of demon-forged iron, anchored to the frozen ground with huge spikes. As of yet, it had no ammunition, but that was being brought in by a gang of ghouls. It took four to carry a single bolt, they were so heavy. The destructive capability of a single arrow was awe-inspiring, and the ballista was designed to fire six at a time. With all three unloading at once, the walls of the Keep would be demolished in minutes.

Lyndon made a short dash from his current hiding spot to a broken-down cart, the wreckage still smoldering. The snow around it was stained black with ash. He crouched there, surveying the area. There was another rock to his right which would provide good cover, but getting to it would mean spending nearly thirty seconds in plain view of the demons guarding the ballista. Better, he decided, to head for the trench on his left. It would take him clean past his target, but at least then he could launch his assault from the rear, where he was less likely to be spotted.

Steeling himself, he broke into an awkward scrabbling run, bent almost double, using his hands for balance. Reaching the lip of the trench, he dove headlong into it and came to rest, unexpectedly, on pile of corpses. It was not a particularly soft landing, due to the armor they wore. Suppressing a groan, Lyndon sat up, rubbing his stinging elbows. Quite by chance, he had happened upon the sad evidence of Calderos' gallant foray. Most of his force had been slaughtered out on the open plain, but a few had escaped to this trench, where they had stood their ground and paid the price for it.

"Fools," Lyndon muttered as he crawled over the bodies, but his heart was heavy. It was a such a waste of good men, thrown away on a foolhardy charge, an impatient commander's bid for early victory. And somewhere among the fallen lay Calderos himself, a cadaver like all the rest. Gone was his glory, his arrogance. In death, all men were equal.

One of the soldiers – a Templar, by the look of him – was propped up in a sitting position against the earthen wall, strangely lifelike in repose. A familiar-looking spear lay beside him, the golden haft glinting in the sunlight, the blade stained crimson with blood. It took Lyndon a moment to place it as the weapon that Fahkri had bestowed upon Kormac as a reward for defeating Belial.

Lyndon took a step closer, intending to arrange his former companion's body more honorably (that, at least, he could do), but as he reached out, Kormac's head jerked up, his teeth bared in a feral snarl, his eyes burning. He caught sight of Lyndon and stared, as if the rogue's presence was beyond his comprehension.

"Easy," Lyndon said. "It's me. Are you injured?"

"No," Kormac replied hoarsely. There was wonder and bafflement in his voice. "No, I am not. I was in the thick of the battle. My brothers fell around me, one by one, but none of the enemy's attacks touched me. I fought until I fainted from exhaustion. God help me, I don't understand why I was spared, when no other survived."

"Well, I'm glad to see you," said Lyndon, and found that he meant it. "Take my advice, don't think too much about it. You're alive, and that's what matters. What are you doing out here, anyway? Did you join the charge with the other boys?"

Kormac appeared not to be in full possession of his wits yet. Shock, Lyndon thought, combined with an excess of religious zeal. He blinked a few times, like a man waking from a long dream, and said, "What are _you_ doing here?" Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he added, "Seeing what spoils you can glean from the fallen?"

Lyndon was surprised by how much the offhand remark stung, given that he did not particularly like Kormac, and that he had resorted in the past to relieving corpses of their valuables. True to his nature, he kept his genuine hurt from making any appearance, concealing it behind a chilly mask.

"As a matter of fact," he said, "I'm out here risking life and limb so that Baal and the others can make it into Arreat unnoticed. Saiya's been taken captive, and they're going to get her back."

A small, pained sound escaped from Kormac's lips. _"Gott im Himmel …_ Saiya? When? _How?_ Was she not safe within the walls?"

"She was," said Lyndon, "but it seems that one of those flying bastards picked her right up from the tower top and whisked her away. No one saw it happen, but that's what it must have been."

"But you say that Baal is on his way to rescue her."

"As we speak."

"And you are helping him? By wandering around the battlefield?"

"While you were slumbering in this pit, Brother," replied the rogue, "Azmodan's army has been busily constructing some war machines which will reduce the Keep to rubble. I have been dispatched to put them out of commission, if I can. This will also serve the dual purpose of keeping Azmodan's attention fixed here, at the Keep, rather than on what goes on within the borders of his own domain."

"I see," said Kormac. "I will help you, if I can."

Lyndon looked him over appraisingly. "Since you offered," he said, "a good strong fellow like yourself might be just the thing I need. The first ballista is about thirty yards that way. Baal gave me some bombs that will disable it, but the problem is that I have to be standing right next to the damn thing to place them. That would be so much easier to do if it wasn't guarded. Do you catch my drift?"

"Leave it to me," Kormac said. Lyndon mustered enough goodwill to clap him on the shoulder.

"Don't try to fight," he suggested. "Lead them on a merry chase, and try to lose them once the ballista is down. I'd rather you didn't get yourself killed, since we've got three more to do after this one."

" _Du bist so rüchsichtsvoll,"_ muttered Kormac.

" _Danke,"_ Lyndon replied, taking enjoyment from the Templar's expression of mingled shame and resentment. Evidently he hadn't known that Lyndon was a fellow countryman, and thus had a perfect knowledge of the Westmarch dialect. As a matter of fact, Lyndon spoke most languages at least proficiently, but he did not like to divulge this information. He had overheard many useful conversations which would certainly never have taken place if the people speaking had known that their words could be interpreted.

Without another word, Kormac hauled himself up the side of the trench and out of Lyndon's sight, though the clank of his armor was still audible. Lyndon waited until he heard the gibbering of the ghouls as they spotted their prey before he slipped out, as quiet as a shadow, and circled around to the back of the ballista. There, he jammed two bombs into select places among the gears of the contraption, lit the fuses with a nearby torch, and ran like hell itself was snapping at his heels.

The ensuing explosion was magnificent. The ballista's frame was blown apart, charred beams scattering in all directions, while a shower of metal shrapnel rained down in the vicinity. There was a sizable crater in the ice.

The ghouls had been wiped out, but unfortunately Kormac too had been standing just on the edge of the blast radius. He was now lying spread-eagled on the ground, his bulky form strangely reminiscent of the childhood game Lyndon used to play with his brother, of making angel shapes in the freshly fallen snow.

Lyndon called his name and received no response, but as he moved closer, he could tell that Kormac was still alive, and merely stunned. He nudged the Templar's leg with his foot, saying, "Rise and shine, princess. We've got work to do."

"I cannot see," Kormac groaned. "There are bright lights dancing in front of my eyes."

"It'll pass," replied Lyndon, hoping that he was correct. But as Kormac struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on his spear and blinking hard, as if that would restore his vision, the rogue realized that he had a problem on his hands. Namely that he couldn't very well allow his companion to stagger blindly across the battlefield behind him, tripping on corpses, falling into holes, and generally attracting the notice of every demon for miles. Nor could he leave him here, as this spot was certain to be swarming with enemies in very little time.

"Put your hand on my shoulder," he said, sighing. "No, here. Now follow me, and _try_ to be quiet."

Moving awkwardly but somewhat in unison, they set off across the frozen sea populated only by the dead, towards the second ballista.

* * *

Saiya woke to extreme heat, to the smell of sulphur, heavy and choking on the air, and to a roaring sound which as first she took for the wind, and then waves crashing onto shore. It was neither, as she discovered when she opened her eyes. The sound (and also the heat, and hideous smell) was made by a vast lake of lava spreading out below her, filling a central area surrounded by a ring of spiny mountains. She lay upon a ledge, barely three feet wide, suspended over the abyss. The black rock above and below looked impossible to climb, sheer cliffs of basalt shot through with veins of razor-sharp obsidian that would slice flesh as easily as any sword. She was trapped.

The winged demon who had carried her off must have dropped her here, she thought, wondering whether it was an accident that she had survived, or whether she was now a prisoner. She wished that she had not fainted during the latter part of the journey. All she could remember was the biting cold of the wind, the difficulty in drawing breath, the pain in her shoulders … and then a bizarre euphoria, no doubt incurred by the lack of oxygen, where the great bird above her seemed to disappear, and she was soaring independently above the land. No sound could reach her, this high up, and even the largest demons on the plains below had appeared minuscule, like insects. A thought took shape in her mind: _is this what it's like to be an angel? –_ and with it, a wistful longing for something she could never experience.

That had been her last impression before losing consciousness. Now she sat, breathing shallowly because of the acrid odor of the sulphur, and tried to strategize. It was hard to think clearly when her surroundings were so uncomfortable. Her body vehemently protested the rude and sudden change in temperature from frigid to boiling. She had already sweated through the thick cloth of her outfit. Her shoulders were stinging badly; stripping off her shirt, she saw that the demon's talons had left ugly gouges. They were not bleeding any more, but if they were not cleaned and treated soon, she risked an infection.

But whichever way she turned, she ran into a wall which seeped from the figurative world into the literal one. There was simply nowhere to go. She could not climb down, she could not climb up, she could neither pass through the solid rock at her back, nor walk across the empty air in front of her. With no options remaining, she was forced to sit, like a piece of discarded furniture, and wait for rescue.

It was difficult to gauge the passage of time in that wretched place, but Saiya estimated that half an hour had elapsed when her ears caught the sound of wingbeats. Fearing the return of the demons, she huddled up against the basalt to make herself as small as possible. But her heart leapt in joy and relief when instead, a small black form alighted gracefully on her ledge.

"Gawahir!" she exclaimed. "Oh you beautiful, clever bird! You found me!"

He preened himself for a moment, drinking in the praise, and then fixed her with his most serious look. _"Saiya,"_ he squawked. _"Baal is coming! Baal is coming!"_

"I never doubted that he would. Are the others with him?"

The feathered head bobbed up and down a few times.

"Where are they? How far away?"

" _Korsikk!"_ cried the raven. He said the word a few more times, obviously enjoying the sound of it. Saiya's knowledge of the local geography was a bit lacking, but she thought she remembered that there was a bridge called Korsikk that linked the plains around Bastion's Keep to the twisted roads that led into the Arreat Crater, where she presumed that she was. That meant that Baal and company were probably at the halfway point, although that wasn't terribly helpful, since she didn't know when they'd set off, or how long it had taken them to get this far.

Gawahir was now hopping from one foot to the other, seemingly torn between his natural anxiety to return to his master and his sense of duty to her, as his master's beloved. Saiya reached tentatively out to pet him, which he permitted.

"Go on," she said. "Fly back to Baal. Tell him where I am, and that I'm safe for now. Tell him to be careful."

The bird nibbled her finger in a way that could almost be called affectionate. Then he launched himself off the edge like a swimmer taking a dive, falling for a brief moment before spreading his wings and rising again. Saiya watched him until he was out of sight over the southern mountains before settling back down to wait.

Hours crawled slowly by. She sank into the blissful half-sleep of meditation, where the world around her ceased to exist, and her own self with it. She communicated silently with the child in her womb, reassured that the rough journey had not caused it any harm. She dreamed of the green valley in the mountains.

At some point, she became aware of a foreign presence in her little sanctum. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to see Baal and Caesar standing before her. The Hunter swept her up into a wild embrace, gasping, "Saiya! You're alright!"

"Thank the gods!" added Caesar. "We were so worried about you."

"I'm okay," Saiya said. Baal was still holding her; she pulled gently away from him and looked both men over for injuries. "How did you get here so fast?"

Baal frowned. "What are you talking about? It's been almost a full day."

She felt confused, as though there was some detail she was failing to understand. "Where's Gawahir?"

"Down below," answered Caesar. "He was tired, so we let him rest. Come, I'll warp us." He held out his hand expectantly. Saiya took it, and instantly fell the unmistakable pull of teleportation magic. When her vision cleared, the three of them were standing in a little room of stone bricks, which looked as though it might have belonged to some ancient fortification. The walls were crumbling, the shingled roof full of holes.

"Is this part of Bastion's Keep?" Saiya asked, looking around in curiosity.

"I wish," sighed Baal. "No, love, I'm afraid we've got a long ways to go. But this will do as a refuge for now. We'll spend the night here, and return tomorrow morning."

"Return! When we're right on Azmodan's doorstep? We should kill him now, while we have the opportunity!"

"You're so brave, Saiya," murmured Caesar.

"The truth is," said Baal, "that we just don't have the power to defeat him. Even the three of us, working together. He has legions of demons at his disposal, not to mention his concubine and constant guardian, the Lady of Lust …"

Saiya released a sigh of frustration. "No one ever said it would be easy, but I think it's foolish to waste such a chance. I mean, suppose we do make it back to the Keep in one piece. We'll be in the same situation we were before: trying to outlast an innumerable army while its commander sits back and schemes on how to destroy us. We must act now, and decisively!" She looked from one to the other, her gaze direct and appealing. "Can't you see this is bigger than any of us? Baal, you came here to _stop_ Azmodan! You can't give up now, when you're so close to your goal. Even if the three of us should … even if we die, it will not be in vain. You know that I'm right."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow, love," Baal said firmly. "For now, there's a different matter to discuss."

Saiya raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What's that?"

The two men exchanged a glance. Caesar said, "We've been thinking-"

"And talking," said Baal. "We had a lot of time to walk while we were on our way here."

"Yes," Caesar agreed, "and we have decided that we cannot continue like this."

She felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I'll speak frankly," replied the wizard. "We both love you."

"And we know that you love us both," said Baal.

"So why should any of us remain in this state of unfulfilled longing?"

"It's unkind."

"And unnecessary."

Baal nodded. "In my homeland, it's not unusual for a man to have several wives … so why should a woman not have multiple husbands?"

"It's a solution to our problem that would please everyone," said Caesar, spreading his hands wide as if to demonstrate the logic of what he was saying.

The notion that she was missing something obvious was growing steadily in Saiya's mind. What they were suggesting was almost incomprehensible to her. How could the three of them be lovers at the same time? But then she remembered how ignorant she was in sexual practices. After all, she had only slept with one man (ignoring the brief and awkward interlude with Caesar) and then only a handful of times.

Baal smiled reassuringly at her. "It's okay," he said. "I know what you're thinking, love, but I believe that this could be a good thing for all of us."

"I'm … not sure, to be honest," said Saiya. "This is so unexpected."

Caesar placed a hand on her shoulder, his agile fingers gently rubbing at the sore and tender flesh. "You worry too much, darling. Love doesn't have to be stressful. It can be a lot of fun, too."

Baal was stroking her hair, moving in to brush his lips over hers. She felt the slightest touch of his tongue, a sensual little flicker.

"Let us show you," he rasped.

"Yes," echoed Caesar. He had moved directly behind her, flush against her back, tracing feather-light patterns on the nape of her neck. His breath ghosted along their wake. Saiya shivered.

"Can't we talk this over first?" she said plaintively, but her words seemed weightless and insignificant next to the compelling heat building in her core. There was a heady fragrance in the air that filled her mind with wanton visions of the pleasures that would await should she only relinquish control and allow them to have their way with her.

Caesar jerked his hips, his erection pressing against her bottom, and the sense of wrongness became acute. With a gasp, Saiya shrank away from him, into the circle of Baal's arms.

"Stop!" she exclaimed. "I'm not ready for this!"

Baal spun her around so that she faced the wizard again, and fastened his mouth on the exposed side of her neck, while Caesar's hands found her breasts beneath their scant covering. It was an exact replica of the position that the rapists in Antham had held her in, and it filled her with fear. She realized now that neither of her friends were in their right minds – something strange and sinister was controlling them, causing them to assault her.

There was nothing seductive about their movements anymore; they no longer sought to tantalize her. Instead they were rough and forceful, tearing at her clothes, biting and pinching. Saiya tried to fight them off, but there was no power in her limbs. Even now, amidst her horror, the urge to submit was so strong …

" _ENOUGH!"_

A voice splintered the air, deep and primal as the earth's core. Baal and Caesar released her instantly, drawing away as though burned. The stupefying mist cleared from Saiya's mind, like a veil raised from her eyes. The forms of the two men before her shimmered and changed. They were strangers, identical in face and body, impossibly beautiful.

 _Demons!_ she thought, and prepared to lash out with a high kick, but they were too fast for her, seizing her by the arms and holding her fast between them.

"What a shame, love," hissed one – whether it had impersonated Baal or Caesar she could not tell.

"We could have thrilled you beyond your wildest dreams," whispered the other.

" _BRING HER BEFORE ME,"_ the unseen voice demanded. With twin sighs of regret, the two incubi dragged her out of the crumbling ruin and into a circular area which had the look of a temple or a place of worship. It was ringed by broken column and statues without faces. An altar rested in the center, a massive slab of polished obsidian carved with mystical symbols.

And behind the altar crouched a demon far more formidable than the Butcher, more terrifying than Belial, more grotesque than Ghom. It held out a hand weighed down by many rings and bangles, and motioned for its minions to advance.

"So then, daughter of angels," said Azmodan, for it could be no other. "We are face to face at last."

* * *

 **Lyndon and Freja's conversation runs as such:**

 **Freja: "You are going to die, Lyndon?"**

 **Lyndon: "It's possible."**

 **Freja: "Your spirit is welcome in the halls of my ancestors."**

 **Lyndon: "You honor me greatly, Freja. I have not words to thank you enough."**

 **Freja: "Then don't thank me at all. You've earned it."**

 *** Kormac said, "You're so considerate." Lyndon answered, "Thanks."  
**

 **A huge thank you to Wryxinka, for the awesome Slovak translations! :D Reviews are awesome as well ... *wink wink***


	12. 12 - The Field of Bones

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"But the bravest fell, and the solemn bell_  
 _Rang mournfully loud and clear_  
 _For those who died that Eastertide in the springing of the year_  
 _And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those stout-hearted men, but few_  
 _Who bore the fight that freedom's lights_  
 _Might shine through the foggy dew"_  
 _\- The Dubliners_  
 _"The Foggy Dew"_

* * *

 **Hey, all, it's that time again! Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving (for those who celebrate it) :D Last chapter didn't get a ton of attention (or at least, reviews) but I'd like to fervently thank those who did write in! Ela1980, Del21, silverlineage, and Devinne, thanks so much! You guys gave me inspiration to get this chapter out! Devinne, I couldn't respond personally to you because you weren't logged in when you reviewed, but I really appreciated your kind remarks! :D  
**

 **I do try very hard to respond to all reviews, but if I missed one of you, I sincerely apologize! Please don't think that it means I didn't value your feedback! And now, without further ado, enjoy chapter twelve!**

* * *

Chapter Twelve: The Field of Bones

"Look!" Caesar exclaimed. "The signal flare!"

They were standing atop a small rise of land on the western edge of the plain. To the right, jagged cliffs of ice dropped abruptly into the ocean. They had been skirting the rim for hours now, avoiding combat, but they had reached a point where the only way to proceed was straight through the heart of enemy territory – an impossible course as long as the rear guard of Azmodan's army remained in their way. So they'd been stalled here for nearly twenty minutes, waiting for a sign from Lyndon that the path was clear. For this purpose, Baal had given him some of the arrows filled with colored dye that he had recently made.

"It's green," he murmured. "We're good to go."

Sure enough, the horde was beginning to move, drawing away from the bridge and towards the plumes of smoke rising from where the ballistas had been. Ghouls ran squealing before the driver's whips, winged demons sprang skyward and circled like birds of prey, hellhounds chained to their masters worked themselves into a blood frenzy, siege beasts stomped along, stepping on everything that got underfoot. Before long, all that remained was a stretch of trampled ground, the smashed ice melting into a thick, gritty mud.

The little party set off across it in silence, the footsteps of their missing comrades a grim echo of their own. Lyndon, who walked willingly into danger for their sake, Kormac, still counted among the missing and presumed dead, and Saiya, her fate unknown. Baal had spent enough time in her company now to know that without her, he felt like half of himself was missing.

"There are bodies here," said Ghor, stopping abruptly. Baal glanced down. He had been about to step on the back of someone's head. The hair was so encrusted with dirt and blood that it was impossible to tell what color it would have been.

"Some of Calderos' soldiers who made it further than the others?" Caesar theorized.

"No," said Freja. She had not spoken much during her time with them, preferring to keep slightly separate from them, but now she crouched and dug around, unearthing a pale hand from the churned soil. There was a ring upon the middle finger. She wiped it clean.

"Balder," she said. Dropping the hand, she moved to the next body and turned the face upwards. "Elof."

"It's her men," Caesar whispered to Baal. "But what are they doing _here_? We left them on the southern side of the fortress."

"They must have circled around," the Hunter replied.

They watched on as Freja moved with increasing desperation from one corpse to the next, naming each in turn. "Geir. Fiske. Bjorn. Einar." When she got to the one she called Carr, a wounded cry broke from the throat, and she pressed her forehead against his.

"I wish Lyndon was here," murmured Baal. "He'd know the right thing to say."

"Men can be such fools," said Ghor. "Do not talk. Act." And without another word she stepped past them and knelt beside the grieving Barbarian, helping her to free the body she held from its icy prison. Spurred by her example, Baal and Caesar began to scour the area for more remains. The wizard obviously chafed at the delay, grumbling under his breath about how the dead were dead, but they were losing their chance to help the living. But Baal understood the necessity of treating the fallen with the honor they deserved. If these people had been _his_ family, he would have taken all the time he needed, no matter how pressing his errand. He could do no less for another.

When they were finished, ten corpses were laid out in a row on the edge of the cliff. Freja bore her sorrow stoically – aside from the brief outburst when she had discovered the man who, from his appearance, was surely her brother, she had shed no tear and uttered no word. Her face was as stony as the northern mountainsides as she looked down on her former companions.

"What would you do, if you were back home?" Baal asked her. She stared uncomprehendingly at him, and he made a gesture as if digging with a shovel. "Bury them? Burn them?"

"Dead _bojovnici_ we do not burn," said Freja, haltingly. "They sleep in stone beds, in the mountain heart. We make them gifts on some days of the year, food and drink, weapons, that sort of thing."

Baal nodded. "I'm sorry that your people have died so far from home."

"They die for me," Freja murmured. "From them I go away, and they want me back. It is their …" She paused, obviously struggling for the right word.

"Duty?" Baal suggested.

"Yes. That."

"They were very brave," Caesar remarked. "They must have known that it was futile to challenge so many, yet they charged in anyway … and it looks like they took a good number with them!"

Freja nodded in approval. "Yes, they are good fighter. What to do? I do not want leave them here. Demons eat, very bad. But so many, I cannot carry."

"What if," suggested Baal, "we push them off into the sea? The ice would make coffins for them, a bit like your 'stone beds'. No one would be able to disturb their sleep. And … with Calderos gone, it might be possible to make arrangements with the Keep's new commander so that you could travel here and leave gifts for them."

He knew he had gone a little far, offering things that he had no control over, but it was worth it to see the astonished gratitude light up her lovely face. She said, "I like this thought. You are kind man, Ball."

"It's Baal …"

"We do this," she declared, ignoring him. Leaning over, she lifted the first body (a man in his middle years, whose hair was tied back in a ponytail) and threw him over the edge.

" _Halvar_ ," she said, " _manžel môj, stretneme sa v sieni našich predkov, no nečakaj že ťa tam privítam_."

Next she picked up the youngest, a blonde boy barely out of his teens, his youthful face covered in blood from the head wound that had killed him. Freja's eyes softened as she looked at him, and she briefly ran a hand over his tangled blonde hair. " _Zbohom_ _, Ingemar_ ," she murmured. " _Nikdy som k tebe nebola veľmi dobrá. Odpusť mi. Bol si mi dobrým nevlastným synom a zaslúžil si si viac._ "

The three Nephalem looked on, respectfully silent, as she spoke a few words to each man before letting him fall. But when she arrived at the last one, a short, rotund Barbarian, Ghor suddenly cried, "Wait!"

Freja glanced at her, then back at the corpse. "Oh, yes. I remember now," she said. "Jory want you, yes?"

"Yes," said Ghor, with a sad smile. "He did claim me, I think. But he did not treat me poorly. He allowed me to ride with him, and he loved to touch my hair. I would like to say my own farewell to him."

"Go ahead," Freja replied indifferently. Ghor laid her hand over the dead man's eyes, murmuring a prayer in her native tongue.

"The ways of women are baffling to me sometimes," Caesar whispered in Baal's ear. "How could she have any fondness for someone who carried her off like a piece of meat on the front of his saddle?"

"How could a man feel any attraction to a woman who treated him like shit?" Baal retorted, thinking of Vera. "Human relationships are mysterious."

"Very true," said Caesar. "Take yours and mine, for example. We used to hate each other for no good reason. And now that we _both_ have a good reason, we don't."

Baal grinned. "Speak for yourself, mage. I still hate you."

"I hate you too, asshole!" Caesar snapped. "In fact, I despise you even more now than I used to! So there!"

"When men are done with love talk," interrupted Freja, rolling her eyes, "we could maybe be going? Little woman is still in trouble, I have thought."

The effect of her words was instantly sobering, but as they walked out onto the formidable expanse of the Korsikk Bridge, Baal was contemplating a change in himself. Several months ago, he would have allowed his concern for Saiya to isolate him from the rest of the group, retreating behind a shield of irascibility that made him nearly unapproachable. But at some point, that had shifted. Now he took comfort in the presence of others.

His friends.

It had begun with Saiya: her relentless cheer, her infallible kindness and generosity of spirit, her refusal to give up on him even in his worst moods. As if his relationship with her had widened a hairline crack in his defenses, others had gradually trickled through, infiltrating his soul with such subtlety that he hadn't even noticed. And the most amazing thing was, he _trusted_ them, like he had trusted no one since the day in Müqeddes'das when his world had been stolen from him.

"So this is the fabled bridge of Korsikk," said Caesar. "I've long wanted to see it, but I wasn't expecting it to be so … run-down."

"Yes," Baal agreed, "it has seen better days."

The bridge, which spanned the chasm between Bastion Keep and Mount Arreat, had once been an architectural marvel on par with anything mankind had created. It was over a mile long and built so cunningly that supports were not required, despite its massive scale. Several gates and guard towers had been constructed at intervals along it, so that the soldiers of the Keep could regulate traffic. But these, like the rest of the once-great fortress, had suffered in the war twenty years ago, and had yet to be properly repaired. The sides of the bridge had begun to crumble away, so that it was narrower in some places than others.

Before long, they came to a place where the infrastructure had been badly damaged, the paving stones torn away to reveal a latice of oaken beams that formed the bridge's backbone. The adventurers were faced with a choice: to proceed, they would either have to keep their balance on the beams, fighting wind and slippery timber every step of the way, or else take the underroad, a perilous series of ledges and ladders meant for the use of carpenters, which ran along the bottom of the bridge on either side.

"I don't like either option, to tell the truth," Caesar complained. "Sure, those beams _seem_ stable enough, but one misstep will send us plunging hundreds of feet to our deaths. And that catwalk looks like it will fall apart at any second."

"Well, we've got to go one way or the other," said Baal. "Unless you want to warp us across?"

"No," Freja protested instantly. "Never again. Mage is bad at magic."

"That does it," Caesar growled. "I'll teach you not to doubt me." Crouching down, he placed both hands palm down against the stone. Ice began to gather, forming a pathway three feet wide that linked the two sides.

"Brilliant!" Baal exclaimed. "Good thinking."

"Just hurry, please," gasped the wizard. "This spell wasn't meant to cover such a large distance."

With Baal in the lead, they hastened across the gap. Once they were safely on the other side, Caesar stood up and scratched his head. The magical ice faded away.

"Yeah … I didn't think this one through," he shouted, sounding rather sheepish. "Guess I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way."

Baal cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling back, "Don't be an idiot! Just teleport across!"

"I don't want to drain my arcane reserves before we even get to Azmodan," Caesar cried. "We've still got a long way to go, and it's likely that I'll need to warp Saiya back to the Keep."

Baal scowled at the suggestion that the young monk would not be in good condition when they found her, but he could not dispute the possibility. Shrugging, he called back, "Nice knowing you!" and turned his back, fiddling with the larger of his two crossbows. To a casual observer, it might have appeared as though he couldn't care less whether or not Caesar made it over, but in actuality he was preparing one of his few remaining rope-and-net bolts in case of an accident (which, given his friend's track record, seemed probable).

"We have problem," Freja announced. She was pointing further down the bridge, where a large group of ghouls had emerged from some hidden crevice.

"Shit," muttered Baal, doing a rapid headcount. "More than twenty. I was hoping we could avoid any large-scale combat, but I suppose that was unrealistic. I'll try to thin their numbers before they get too close."

Freja unsheathed her gigantic greatsword, which Lyndon had removed from the armory while no one was looking. She rested the flat of the blade on her shoulder. "Let them come," she said. "I make big surprise."

"I bet," Baal quipped, glancing sideways at her. He had initially been reluctant to allow the Barbarian woman to accompany them so far, not knowing how trustworthy she was, but he could not deny that she would be tremendously useful in a skirmish.

Drawing Thaqib, he opened fire into the crowd of demons. A decent number of them went down, dead or wounded, but unfortunately they were cleverer than he had given them credit for, and spread out across the entire breadth of the bridge as they advanced, so that he had to pick his shots more carefully for fear of wasting his dwindling supply of arrows. He had, by his count, dispatched eight of them by the time they got too close for ranged combat.

The moment their foe appeared, Ghor had begun to chant. Now, two of her hellhounds came up from a portal in the ground and sprang amongst the enemy, snapping at throats and crushing leg-bones in their powerful jaws. Freja was wielding her broken beam one-handed, smashing any ghoul that got within range.

Baal drew his hunting knife, switching Thaqib to his left hand. He twisted to avoid the arc of a club, and stabbed the ghoul who'd swung it in the side of its neck. A spray of foul blood spattered across his face. He growled deep in his throat, feeling the surge of power that always rose in him when he was fighting. His vision reddened, his heartbeat accelerated, and he wanted nothing more than to tear each and every one of his foes limb from limb.

Three more ghouls rushed at him with clubs raised. One he stopped dead with a bolt to the stomach, but the others were upon him before he had time to fire again. He blocked with his left forearm, wincing as the spikes bit into his flesh, and slashed out with his knife. The blade scored a narrow gash across his opponent's face, but unfortunately the angle was wrong, and the blow but a glancing one. The ghouls flung themselves at him, their combined weight and momentum carrying him to the ground.

A brief struggle, and he was up again, leaving one demon dead and flinging the other away. It slid across the slick stone, coming to a halt right before it went over the edge. Baal spun and put an arrow in its head.

At that moment, a flash of blue caught his attention. A large ghoul had made it past Freja and out onto the beam where Caesar was currently stranded. The wizard, thinking quickly, had frozen it, but in doing so, he had inadvertently blocked his own path forward. He was now trying to shift the icy statue enough to knock it off, without losing his own footing in the process.

"Stand back!" Baal shouted. "I'll break it for you!"

He took aim, but before he could fire, a pair of lanky arms wrapped tightly around his throat from behind. Choking, he thrashed around, trying to throw the thing off. It was yowling in his ear, the shrill sound deafening to his sensitive hearing.

Then, just as he was on the edge of blacking out, something heavy struck him on the shoulders. He sprawled flat on his face, pinned down, and heard a horrifying growl. Hot, fetid breath wafted around his face. The ghoul squealed.

And then the weight was gone, and he was able to sit up again. His enemy lay motionless beside him. It took him a few seconds to realize what had happened; one of Ghor's hellhounds had leapt upon him, broken his attacker's neck with a single bite, and jumped off again. He wondered whether she had commanded it to aid him, or whether it acted of its own volition, recognizing him as an ally. Or perhaps, he thought, saving his life had been incidental, and its only thought had been to remove another demon from the world.

The battle was over, the bridge scattered with corpses. Baal took a deep breath, allowing his hatred to subside a little, now that it was no longer needed. His left arm stung badly, and he rolled up his sleeve, inspecting the line of puncture wounds.

A sharp cry rang out, and he jerked his head around, staring in horror and disbelief. Caesar, mere steps from safety, had put his foot down wrong and slipped off the beam. He had managed to grab hold of it as he fell, and was now dangling precariously over the thousand-foot drop.

Cursing, Baal reached for Qarasahin, which was still in its holster on his back, but Freja acted first. Dropping her weapon, she crouched down and grabbed the wizard's arm and lifted him as easily as if he was made of air, depositing him next to her on the bridge.

"Bad time for run away," she said. "You want leave, wait 'til you have feet on ground again."

 _It seems our Barbarian has a sense of humor after all,_ Baal mused. _Who would have suspected?_

Caesar, on the other hand, was far too shaken by his close call to get the joke. "Th-th-thank you!" he stammered out, his teeth chattering. Freja waved a dismissive hand.

"You alright?" Baal asked quietly. Caesar nodded, but his eyes were a bit unfocused. The Hunter rummaged around in his pocket for his flask and handed it over. "Here, drink some. It'll help your nerves."

Caesar took a grateful swig – then a second, longer one – before returning it. "I thought that was it for me," he muttered.

"Yeah," said Baal, "so did I. What is it with you and falling off of ledges, anyway? You have the worst luck of anyone I've ever known. It's like if something bad is going to happen, it happens to you."

"I was born under an evil star," Caesar answered dryly. "Anyway, I'm fine now. We can be on our way."

"You are injured, _rafiki_ ," Ghor said, laying a gentle hand on Baal's shoulder. "Let me see."

"It's nothing," he replied, but held his arm out anyway. The _sangoma_ removed a vial of clear liquid from her medicine bag and sprinkled a few droplets over the wound. It hissed and bubbled, burning as if she had pressed a flaming poker against his skin, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself not to recoil. It didn't take long for the pain to fade. Ghor wrapped his forearm in a clean bandage.

"Thanks," he said. "I appreciate it."

She smiled warmly at him. "You are welcome."

They continued on, through the first set of gates, which had been bashed wide open by Azmodan's siege beasts. Shattered bits of wood and twisted metal bars lay scattered across the bridge. Of the guard towers on either side, one had been completely destroyed, and the doorway to the other was blocked by rubble. The soldiers that had manned them lay slaughtered.

"They never stood a chance," Baal said. "I told Calderos not to bother, that having men outside the walls was a waste, but he wouldn't listen to me. His poor decisions have cost a lot of lives."

"Then we had better make sure that their sacrifice was not in vain," said Caesar. "Once Saiya is safe, I say that we end this."

"I'm with you to my last breath, _qardas_ ," Baal replied, and then stopped in his tracks, shocked by the endearment he had used. He had not referred to anyone as 'brother' since his childhood. He hadn't really meant to, it had just slipped out as naturally as if he'd always been saying it.

Caesar raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Did you insult me again? It must have been a pretty bad one for you to look so guilty about it."

Baal gave him a nasty look and resumed walking. "Leave me alone, jackass. If you want to know what I said, maybe you should try learning my language."

" _Siz atdirmaq,"_ Caesar shot back, with perfect indignation and decidedly _im_ perfect pronunciation. The Hunter couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"Not bad, but you've got a long way to go. Now, about Azmodan …"

By the time they were nearing the end of the bridge, they had decided upon a basic strategy, subject of course to change depending upon the circumstances. They would stick together until they located Saiya, whereupon Caesar would teleport her back to the Keep if necessary. If they found Azmodan first, then Caesar would refrain from joining the battle, and continue looking for the monk on his own.

"As for defeating him," Baal said, "we'll need our best weapons, plus a whole lot of luck. As I told Saiya, Belial wasn't even in the same league strength-wise. Azmodan is corporeal, for one thing. He hits hard. I've studied his battlefield record extensively, however, so I know a bit of what we should expect. For one thing, he _will_ have other demons backing him up. Leave them to me, and just concentrate solely on the big chief. His glare is deadly, so don't allow him to concentrate on you for too long; keep moving. As a denizen of hell, he has the powers of fire at his command. And worst of all, the few reports we have from those who have witnessed him in battle and lived tell of a foul corruption of the earth that follows in his wake. So … try not to stand in it."

"Thanks for the warning," said Caesar.

"Ghor," Baal continued, "do you think that you'll be able to call upon your godly friend? He'd be a lot of use in this fight, I think."

"Churamungu?" The witch doctor sounded surprised. "I can speak with him, but I do not guarantee he will answer."

"Why not?" said Baal. "He came last time."

Ghor sighed. "I am not as powerful as I was then. The gates of my mana remain closed, and I am unable to open them."

Caesar frowned in confusion. "But you've been summoning!"

"I have some residual mana left over from when I healed Francis," Ghor explained. "I have been using that, but once it dries up, I will be useless once again."

"You're never useless, _rafiki_ ," murmured the wizard.

Baal said, "Well, how did you open the gates last time?"

"Ordinarily, that would be a function of my _loa_. But she is lost to me. I cannot reach the spirits for guidance or for aid. Last time …" she hesitated uncharacteristically before saying, "Saiya served as a conduit for my mana. _She_ opened the gates."

The two men exchanged a glance. "Could Caesar or I do it?" Baal asked.

"I thank you for the offer," Ghor said, "but I do not think it would work. Saiya was ideal: she knows how to spirit-walk. If you were to try, Baal, the darkness that surrounds you would corrupt my mana. I doubt we would welcome the demons who feed on that kind of energy. And Caesar, your soul had a narrow escape from the Unformed Lands. If you stray too close, the denizens of that world would be only too happy to snatch you back. Better not to tempt them."

Caesar shuddered, and his eyes for a moment took on a glassy hue, as if he was lost in memories. Baal said, "Right, got it. We're no good. So do what you can, nothing more."

They were now at the base of Mount Arreat. The slopes started out gentle, vast swathes of scree through which lines of volcanic rock rose like veins in ashen, withered flesh. Further up, the mountain became unscalable, sheer cliffs and stony crags framed against the sky.

Directly ahead of them lay the massive doors of star-iron and molten steel which barred entry into the crater. They were built directly into the stone itself, and could only be opened from the inside – the main reason why no human had entered Arreat since the Barbarians had been forced to abandon it.

"Fuck," Baal groaned. "I hoped we'd be able to get in this way."

"What now?" Caesar inquired. "Is there another entrance?"

Freja shook her head. "No, this only door."

"Not even a sewer grate?" the wizard asked hopefully.

"What is 'sewer'?"

"Uh … well … it's a sort of pipe that carries waste out of a building or city, so that it can be dumped somewhere else."

Freja looked deeply offended. "Lyndon say this too. He want me escape in 'waste pipe'. Daughter of Siegfried is not waste!"

"No one ever said-"

"Shut up!" Baal hissed. "I heard something!"

The four Nephalem ducked behind an outcropping of rock near the trail. There were indeed sounds, apparently coming from within the mountain: creaking and scraping and sonorous clangs, as if a giant gong was being struck.

The doors began to open. There was something moving on the other side, a dark shape that was gradually revealed as it forced its way out into the open. It was massive, almost too large to fit through the gap. The arms emerged first, with spiked battering rams encasing the hands like gauntlets; then the head, covered in metal plates. The bulky, brutish torso was supported by four short but powerful legs.

"Is that … Azmodan?" whispered Caesar.

"Not remotely," said Baal. "That's just his muscle. One of the bigger ones I've seen, though. It could prove problematic for Captain Haile and his men."

"They'll just have to deal," Caesar grumbled. "We can't afford to fight this thing, Baal."

"I have an idea," the Hunter said calmly. "Just hear me out, okay? If we can weaken a section of the bridge, it should crumble underneath that bastard's weight. It's pretty tough, but the fall should kill it."

Caesar looked aghast. "Are you serious, Baal? That bridge is thousands of years old, and you want to destroy it? That's a piece of history!"

Baal grabbed him by the front of his coat, more to illustrate how serious he was than out of any desire to intimidate. "Caesar," he growled, "Bastion's Keep is _also_ thousands of years old, and there are actually living people inside of it who will cease to be alive if that demon succeeds in busting its way through the walls. So you tell me what's worse: to temporarily ruin a bridge that can easily be repaired, or to let hundreds die to spare one piece of architecture that's full of holes anyway."

"You're right," Caesar admitted. "I don't know what I was thinking. But how exactly are we going to accomplish this grand feat of demolition? We don't have a lot of time."

"I suggest that we split into two teams," said Baal. "One to weaken the bridge, and the other to distract Handsome over there."

"I will distract," said Ghor.

"Bridge not stand chance," Freja announced, placing her hand on the hilt of her greatsword. "But … would be better if mage use ice to make … what is word?"

"Fragile?" Ghor suggested. "It means 'easy to break or snap'."

"Fragile," Freja repeated. "Good. Yes, that."

Caesar glanced at Baal and Ghor, plainly worried. "Are you guys going to be okay?" he asked.

Baal snorted. "A better question would be, are you? Your luck with bridges isn't so great, you know."

"We will be fine, _rafiki_ ," Ghor reassured him. "Go."

Freja was already moving away, crouched over in an attempt to make her large form less visible. With a swift hug for Ghor and a somewhat awkward pat of Baal's shoulder, Caesar reluctantly hurried after her.

"Right," said Baal, pulling out both bows. "Let's do this."

The witch doctor began to chant, her eyes closed in concentration. Baal left her where she was, figuring that she'd be safe enough there, and started down the slope towards the siegebreaker, which was currently plodding ponderously towards the bridge. As soon as he was within range, he dropped to one knee, leveled Thaqib, and opened fire. The spray of bolts did very little damage to the demon's thick hide, but at least it got its attention.

Being incapable of turning its head, it shifted its whole body around to face him, exactly as he'd hoped. The beast let out a wordless bellow of rage, stamping its feet like a bull about to charge. It couldn't see him, but it didn't need to – its sense of smell was acute. Baal was familiar with monsters like this, bred for the singular purpose of destroying as much as possible in the shortest amount of time, imbued with the minimum of intelligence so that they were capable only of following orders.

"Come on, dummy!" he taunted. "Come get me!"

As predicted, it careened towards him, the ground trembling with each of its thunderous footfalls. Baal dodged nimbly to one side, and the demon crashed headfirst into the mountainside, sending up a spray of dust and rock pieces. The Hunter sent a stream of arrows into its flank, concentrating on the spot where the leg joined with the torso, where the skin was weaker.

Thaqib clicked empty, and he stopped to reload. He had practiced the movements so often that he could do it in seconds without an error, but this time it proved to be too long. The bow was not yet ready to fire by the time that the siegebreaker had righted itself and turned on him.

There was the sound of many tiny wings beating in concert, and the sky was filled with fire. Hundreds of bats came swooping down out of nowhere, forming swirling patterns around the demon's head, confusing it. While it was thrashing around, Baal slipped stealthily away.

And the behemoth, searching for a new target, fixed on Ghor instead. Before he could so much as cry out a warning, it was attacking her, bringing its great hand down on the rocks where she hid. The three prongs on its gauntlet were buried deep in the ground, and Baal sucked in a ragged breath. If those had hit her …

But then the hand came back up again, wrenching free of the earth, and he could see a tiny shape gripped in the fingers. That was just as bad; if he couldn't do something to free her within the next few moments, she would surely be crushed to death.

Qarasahin was still loaded with the net shot. An idea occurred to him, and he aimed for the back of the siegebreaker's neck and pulled the trigger. He had never used the net in this particular way before, but since the cable was retractable, there was no reason that it shouldn't work.

The rope was just long enough. As soon as the demon-spider webbing was firmly attached to the target, he began to reel himself up, rising into the air. Progress was slower than he would have liked, and he made a mental note to improve the mechanism's speed. That aside, it made an admirable grappling hook, and was strong enough to support the weight of an additional person. Thinking about how many of their adventures would have been simplified by using this technique, Baal felt annoyed with himself for not coming up with it sooner.

He was about halfway up the broad expanse of the demon's side when it suddenly cocked its arm back and flung its prisoner skyward. Baal was helpless to assist her, able only to watch as her arms and legs flailed wildly, searching for something to grab ahold of and finding nothing but empty space. Caesar and Freja were too far away to do anything, and occupied as they were, there was no guarantee that they'd even noticed the _sangoma's_ predicament.

The fiery bats left their orbit of the siegebreaker's head and streamed towards their falling mistress, slowing her descent. Baal could only hope that it would be enough to save her.

He had reached the back now, and with some difficulty found his footing upon it, clinging to the rope as if it was a lifeline. His balance was good, but nowhere near as perfect as Saiya's, and it was a struggle to make his way along the ridge of the spine as the demon beneath him bucked and heaved.

Reaching the head, he braced himself and fumbled in his belt pouch for his two remaining bombs. With a quick twist of his wrist, he detached the rope from the spider-net. Then he lit the fuses on the bombs, jamming them underneath the bottommost plate of the monster's helm, right next to the skin. In the moments before they detonated, he gathered his courage and leaped outwards into thin air.

The distance was not so high as the jump he had made from the battlements of Sescheron, but then the landing was not so soft either. He had intended to roll upon hitting the ground, but instead his feet skidded out from underneath him and he half-tumbled, half-slid down the mountainside, coming to a halt against a boulder. He lay for a minute looking up at the sky, winded and breathless. There was dirt in his eyes and his mouth.

A dull _boom_ signified that the explosion had occurred. The siegebreaker staggered. Baal knew that the bombs had not done much damage – most likely, they had not even had force enough to penetrate the thick bone of the skull – but they seemed to have caused a concussion, at least. The demon appeared to be confused, swaying its head from side to side.

Shouts from the bridge drew its notice, and its ire. Freja and Caesar had finished with their task, and were now doing their best to lure their enemy into the trap they had set for it. It began to move in their direction, slowly at first, then gathering speed until it was nearly galloping.

Baal sat up to watch. The two of them were standing side by side, egging the creature on, and then in the blink of an eye they vanished and reappeared behind it. With a tremendous crack, the entire first section of the bridge crumbled, leaving a narrow margin on either side. The siegebreaker plunged downwards, clawing ineffectually at the edge and succeeding only in breaking off more chunks of stone. When it landed far below, the impact was earth-shattering.

In the following silence, Baal picked himself up and looked around for Ghor. She was lying several yards away, crumpled on her side. But she raised her head as he approached her, and her jet-black eyes were bright and alert.

"Did we triumph?" she asked weakly, reaching out. Baal dropped to his knees and took her hand in his own.

"Yeah," he said. "You did great. Probably saved my life."

Caesar was running towards them, a look of horror stamped on his face. "Ghor!" he cried. "Are you okay?"

She was trying to sit up; Baal wrapped a supporting arm around her shoulders to help her. "I will live," she said, apparently without irony.

Baal had thought her stunned but unhurt. The wizard was more perceptive, or knew her better. "How bad?" he asked quietly.

"My leg," she replied. "It is broken, I believe."

Caesar hissed in sympathy, crouching down to examine the limb with gentle fingers. "I don't think it's severe," he announced. "A fracture, most likely. With your permission, I'll make a cast of ice for you. Still, you should keep your weight off of it."

He wrapped his fingers around her calf, and a crystalline sheath formed from knee to ankle. "Too tight?" he asked.

Ghor shook her head. "No, it is perfect."

"Good." Then he turned on Baal with an expression of cold fury. "You were supposed to be watching out for her! How could you let this happen?"

Baal shrugged. "I tried, but it isn't easy when you've got ten tons an angry demon stampeding at you."

"Do not blame him, _rafiki_ ," Ghor interrupted. "He did all that he could. The important thing is that we all survived, and the gates to the mountain are open."

"This is where we part from you, then," Baal said to Freja, who was standing a few feet off, as though she did not want to get too close to them. "I'm sorry we have nothing to give you, except our best wishes."

"Why give me thing?" Freja inquired. "You not owe."

"You didn't owe us either," Baal said, "but you've helped us a lot. I'd like to think that if we'd gotten to know each other better, we might have been friends."

"Don't think so," said Freja, shaking her head, but there was a teasing glint in her eye that indicated her words should not be taken at face value.

"Of course not," he muttered, playing along. "Anyway, it was a pleasure fighting by your side, Freja. I hope we meet again some day."

"I not leave," Freja replied after a short pause.

"But we're going into the mountain," said Baal, thinking that perhaps she had misunderstood. "Your road home lies that way."

She waved an impatient hand. "Yes, I know that. I stay, kill more demons, help you save little woman. _Then_ go home."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know."

"It'll be very dangerous. You might even die."

The Barbarian narrowed her eyes. "I am not child, Ball. Daughter of Siegfried know what is danger. Not afraid. Want … how you say? Kill demons because they kill my men."

"Revenge," he whispered.

"Yes, that. Want revenge on Azmodan, so I help you kill. After that, I go home with honor."

Baal sighed. "Okay, but if you're determined to come along, could you at least get my name right? It's _Baal_ , not Ball."

By this time, Ghor had solved the dilemma of how she was going to keep up with the party; since she couldn't walk, she had summoned a gargantuan creature to carry her. It was the same shambling beast that she had ridden during the razing of Wortham. With a word of command, it crouched down to allow her easier access to its back, though Caesar still had to give her a boost up. Freja eyed the creature suspiciously as they set off, and ensured that Baal was walking between her and it.

"We've had it easy up 'til now," the Hunter said as they approached the star-iron doors.

"You call that easy?" Caesar retorted, pointing back at the broken bridge.

"Compared to what's inside, yes. I'm dead serious when I say that there's a very good chance that at least one of us won't be coming back."

Beside him, Freja snorted. "Ball, you are bad leader. Before battle, you must talk about victory, not dying. When you say, 'we will water forest with blood of our enemies!' then your people feel better, fight better. Is common sense."

"I'm only trying to give you all a good idea of what's in store, so that you can back out now if you want to," Baal replied, annoyed.

"Well, we don't want to," said Caesar. "And Freja's right. Your realism is making us all depressed."

"Fine, then!" he snapped. "We're going to march in there and kick Azmodan's ass back into Hell! Satisfied?"

"Ass is this, yes?" said Freja, pointing to Caesar's backside. "Why want to kick it?"

"Never mind," Baal groaned. "Let's just go."

Despite their bravado, the four Nephalem unconsciously drew closer together as they walked up the ancient stone steps and through the gates, into the hot heart of the mountain.

* * *

 ***Freja's eulogy goes: "Halvar, we will meet in the halls of our ancestors, my husband, but do not expect me to welcome you there. Farewell, Ingemar. I was never kind to you. I'm sorry. You were a good step-son to me, and you deserved better." Thanks, Wryxinka, for the awesome translations! :D**

 ***Caesar said, "Fuck you."**


	13. 13 - The Sin Hearts

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 **Part III: Children of Heaven**

* * *

 _"Kann man Herzen brechen?_  
 _Können Herzen sprechen?_  
 _Kann man Herzen quälen?_  
 _Kann man Herzen stehlen?_

 _Können Herzen singen?_  
 _Kann ein Herz zerspringen?_  
 _Können Herzen rein sein?_  
 _Kann ein Herz auf stein sein?"_

 ** _"Can you break hearts?_**  
 ** _Can hearts speak?_**  
 ** _Can you torture hearts?_**  
 ** _Can you steal hearts?_**

 ** _Can hearts sing?_**  
 ** _Can a heart burst?_**  
 ** _Can hearts be pure?_**  
 ** _Can hearts be made of stone?"_**  
 ** _\- Rammstein_**  
 _ **Links 2 3 4** _

* * *

**Merry Christmas, everyone! A bit late, I know, but I tried ... I'd like to wish you all a wonderful holiday season, and a happy New Years! Thank you all SO much for all your support! I couldn't keep this story going without it. :)**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: The Sin Hearts

The crater was honeycombed with passages which twisted like snakes, looping back on themselves or ending in empty rooms. The only light came from fires that smoldered continuously in the walls and patches of the floor. The air was foul, clogged by smoke and the overwhelming stench of demons, so powerful that even those whose noses were not attuned to the odor could smell it. Baal was forced to plug his nostrils with bits of cloth soaked in mint and rosewater.

"My people walk here, long ago," Freja murmured, stopping briefly to inspect some Barbaric script carved into a natural column. "This place is home. But demons make bad, evil. Ancestors angry if they know. I try to tell father, we must take back Arreat! But he is old now, does not listen to good talk anymore."

"Perhaps he is thinking of the well-being of your tribe," suggested Ghor, from the back of her behemoth. "The soldiers of the Keep would not appreciate having you as neighbors. It would start a war, and many would die. Maybe all."

" _Bojovnici_ not afraid of death," Freja declared proudly. "Great thing to be killed in battle. Spirit lives on in memory."

"Not if there is no one to remember it," said Caesar. The giant woman frowned. Apparently she was not used to thinking ahead. Baal was beginning to understand the Barbarian mentality; to Freja, the only time that mattered was the present. The past was like a story, to be honored and respected but not learned from, and the future did not exist yet, and so was deemed insignificant. As intelligent as she was, her brain was simply not trained to consider consequences: the extinction of her race was a concept so unimaginable that she could not comprehend it.

But even as he watched, her frown deepened and she said, "You say, no more _bojovnici_ mean no more ancestors too? They live in us … if we die, they die. So my father is not coward. He is wise, try to save us all."

"Well," Caesar hedged, clearly taken aback, "I mean, it's possible. I don't know your father, so I can't make judgments about his motivation, but-"

"You say wise thing," Freja interrupted him. "What is word? Mean 'a lot'."

"Touching?" Caesar suggested. The Barbarian gave him a quizzical look.

"I do not touch you."

"No, it's-"

"Important," said Baal. "That's the word you're looking for. Important."

Freja tried it out, repeating it a couple of times. "That mean 'big', yes?"

"It can," said Baal. "Big, valuable, worthy, that sort of thing."

"Yes," Freja said. "This idea important, that _bojovnici_ have reason to live … no, to … to survive. Our people dying, our _way_ dying. I see now. We leave ancient home, we live in small group and steal thing we don't have. We think, saving is to look at past. But without future, there is no past. I must have thought about it." And she did not speak for a long time.

They continued on, deeper and deeper into the mountain. The air grew hot and sulfurous. Baal began to sweat under his leather vest. His scarred leg was hurting him, a vicious dull ache that intensified with every step, but he tried hard to conceal his limp, not wanting the others to realize his condition.

They entered a small circular chamber with three other paths leading out of it. One of them led upwards and one was caved in only a few feet down the passage, leaving them with only one way to go. They were passing between a pair of giant, demonic stone heads that sat on either side of the doorway like grim guardians when the eyes began to glow red and the mouths opened and closed. Moments later, two gouts of fire erupted out from the molten depths of the statues.

They would have been roasted alive on the spot if Caesar's reflexes had not been so swift. Even as the flames rushed towards them he was spinning his wand in a broad circle, encasing the four of them within a sphere of ice. Face tight with concentration, he held it as the fire licked hungrily around the outside. When it died down, he released them with a small sigh.

"Damn, that was close," Baal said as they moved away from the trap. "But at least we know now to stay away from those things."

"Still think I'm bad at magic?" Caesar asked Freja.

"Neat trick," she replied, smirking at his obvious annoyance. "In ten years, I say, 'Mage is good now'."

The wizard scowled. "Next time, I'll let your ungrateful ass smolder for a while before I step in to save you."

"What is 'ungrateful'?"

"It means you should be saying 'thank you', and you didn't!"

Freja looked puzzled. "My ass should be saying 'thank you'?"

"Godsdamnit-"

"Quiet!" said Ghor. "My _kubwa maiti_ senses danger."

Indeed, the golem was restless, sniffing at the air, swinging its head from side to side and pounding its shackled fists against the ground. It seemed to be focusing on a sharp curve in the passage ahead of them. A faint skittering sound was audible, growing louder by the second.

"I'm gonna take a quick look," said the Hunter. Drawing Thaqib, he crept forward with his back pressed against the wall and peered around the corner. It was difficult to see much in the gloom, but the floor appeared to be moving.

His hand went automatically to his belt before he remembered that his bombs were spent. All he had was a small sack of explosive powder left over from his arrow crafting.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath. "You're such a fool, Baal." Removing the leather bag from his pouch, he tossed it in a gentle arc – directly onto a hot spot on the floor.

The resulting explosion lit up the whole tunnel with a flash of light, simultaneously devastating the enemy and illuminating them. At first Baal thought they were some bizarre kind of spider, but they didn't have the requisite amount of legs. They were horrific: six bony, multi-jointed appendages attached to a flat, circular body with no head to speak of, and curling up over the back, a flexible tail ending in a wicked stinger.

And there were dozens of them. His improved bomb had killed no more than eight, and it had certainly alerted them to his position. He decided that a tactical retreat was in order.

"We're in a shit situation!" he announced to his companions, who had come running forward when they heard the blast. "Caesar, I need you to freeze the whole corridor behind me and _hold it_."

"Do you have any idea how much of my arcane power that will drain?" cried the wizard.

"Don't argue, just do it! Now!"

"Whatever you say." He dropped to one knee and planted both palms on the floor. A wave of ice spread outwards, cracking and hissing where it came in contact with the fires. Ghor and Freja needed no instructions; they charged in, intent on killing as many of the demons as they could before Caesar had to release the spell. Baal sat back and picked off the stragglers who had escaped being frozen.

It would have worked perfectly, if another group of them had not come up from behind. Baal noticed too late, and though he tried desperately to fend them off, it wasn't long before he was overwhelmed. They swarmed over him, tiny claws digging into his skin. He tore one off his hip, threw it, stomped on another. Beside him, Caesar was slamming his back against the wall to crush the creatures clinging to it.

Baal felt a sting on his shoulder just above the collarbone. It was incredibly painful, as if he'd been struck dead-on by a bolt of lightning. Worse, his right arm was stiff and unresponsive, the muscles locking. He switched Thaqib to his left hand, angling the weapon so he could shoot his assailant. At this close of range, the bolt should have passed clean through, but it was stopped by a hard outer carapace of the back.

 _No wonder these things are so solid,_ Baal thought wearily. _They're pretty much made of rock!_ He glanced around, locating his companions in the semi-darkness. Caesar was alright for now – he had managed to activate his ice armor, which kept the things at bay. They didn't seem to like the cold much.

Freja and Ghor, on the other hand, were not in such good shape. The witch doctor had been forced to abandon her mount, which was currently hunched on the floor as the monsters writhed and swarmed over it like maggots on a corpse.

"We have to retreat!" Caesar shouted. "There are too many of them!"

"This is the way forward," Baal replied. "If we retreat, we give up on Saiya, and I for one refuse to do that."

It was then that Freja threw her head back and roared. The sound was wild and feral and sent a shiver up Baal's spine. He felt the frigid blast of the northern wind, the terror of being hunted across mountain slopes in the dark of night, the inescapable doom of the prey animal as the wolf closes in. The ground trembled beneath his feet.

But the demons were stunned as well, their small bodies much more affected by the vibrations than the humans were. They ran in circles or flipped over to lay on their backs, legs quivering. Baal took advantage of their confusion to renew his attack, and the others joined him. Even so, it took several minutes to kill every single enemy. The hallway was filled with corpses when they were finished.

"Let's hope we don't have to do that again," groaned Caesar, taking off his hat and mopping his forehead with his sleeve.

"Impressive vocal skills you've got there," Baal told the Barbarian. "It's been a long time since I felt fear like that. How do you do it?"

She shrugged. " _Bojovnici_ learn war cry as child. When you meet bear in forest, you raise arms to make self bigger. Same idea."

"Well, it's a good one. I wish I could do that … it would make my job a lot easier if I could frighten demons into submission by yelling at them."

"One look at your ugly face should be enough," remarked Caesar.

"Your mother wasn't scared," Baal retorted quickly. It was only after Caesar stiffened that he remembered how sensitive the wizard was about that topic. An apology was forming on his lips when Caesar shook his head.

"That's because she thought you were a gargoyle. She was going to ask you to grant her wish." His tone was mocking, but his eyes said, _'Don't push me'._ Baal, understanding and appreciating the clemency he'd been granted, decided to divert the banter to a less complicated line.

"Is that supposed to be a comeback? I don't get it."

"Oh, I forgot how uncivilized you southerners are," Caesar said archly. "In Xiansai, we pray to good-luck gargoyles during the midwinter festival. The more hideous the gargoyle, the more likely it is to answer your request."

Baal chuckled. "That's just weird."

"Coming from a man whose idea of a delicacy is sheep's eyeballs."

"Hey, they're good!"

"So you say."

"I agree with Baal," said Ghor. "In my homeland, we have a similar dish, except that instead of frying the eyes, we boil them in a blood broth. It is very healing, especially for ailments of the chest and lungs."

"Remind me never to go near you when I've got a cold," Caesar muttered.

Baal said, "Well, I suppose each culture is entitled to a certain amount of oddities. Makes them more unique, eh? Freja, do you have a favorite disgusting food?"

She grinned. "When _bojovnici_ hunt, they cut out heart of dead animal and eat raw, no cook. Honor prey, honor gods of hunting."

"Huh," said Caesar. "I've eaten raw fish before, but never red meat. Is it good?"

"Very good," said Freja, nodding. "All strength of spirit live in heart. When you eat, you take strength for self."

"My people believe also in the power of the heart," said Ghor, "but we use it in medicine, or to cast curses."

Sensation was returning to Baal's frozen arm, and with it, a tingling pain that spread to every nerve from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. He grimaced, massaging the elbow joint to restore some mobility. Thankfully no one else seemed to have been stung.

"We should get moving," he said.

"I shall have to remain here," replied Ghor. She was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. "I am sorry, but I do not have the mana to summon another _kubwa maiti,_ and it is too painful to walk."

To everyone's astonishment, Freja stepped forward, turned around, and squatted at the witch doctor's feet. "I give you ride," she said.

"That is kind of you," said Ghor. "I do not wish to be a burden."

Freja shook her head. "No burden. You are small. Stay here, demon come."

"That is most likely true," Ghor admitted. "Very well, then, I will accept your generous offer." With some difficulty, she maneuvered herself into position, arms wrapped around Freja's broad shoulders, and legs tucked against her sides. Freja stood up easily, supporting the other woman with one arm and carrying her greatsword in the other.

The corridor that they had fought so hard to claim proved to be the right one after all. At the end of it was a solid steel door, which they were able to open by all shoving together. But the place that they entered was like nothing they could have anticipated. A vast empty space stretching away in either direction; floor, ceiling, and even walls obscured in shadow. The path continued on in front of them, but it was impossibly thin and fragile, a staircase held up by thick chains, suspended over the void. It connected to a platform further down.

"What the hell _is_ this?" Caesar whispered.

They all turned to Freja, who shook her head in bafflement. There was a note of revulsion in her tone as she said, "Should not be here. My ancestors not build it."

Ghor was craning to peer over the edge, holding on to one of the chains for support. "There are people in the darkness," she said. "Giant people."

Baal looked. Far below he could see a massive shape that vaguely resembled a human head and shoulders. He would have thought it was a statue, except that it was moving, twisting back and forth as though trying to free itself. The face turned up towards him and he caught sight of a metal mask with a mouth gaped open in soundless agony.

"Not people," he said. "Demons."

"Gods above!" exclaimed Caesar. "If even _one_ of those things were to get loose …"

"I don't think you need to worry about that," the Hunter replied. "They're bound here, obviously serving some purpose."

"They are in great pain," murmured Ghor.

"Don't feel pity for them," Baal said. "All demons deserve to suffer." But even as he said it, he heard once again the bleating of the khazra children as he slaughtered them, and Saiya's voice echoed through his mind: _"You say that demons are inherently evil, while we are human and therefore can be redeemed, but I ask you, what are humans? Were we not born from angel and demon both? Why can we be saved but not them?"_

Eloquent words, and they had shook him more than she knew. More than once since then, he had found his hatred slipping, had felt regret at some of the killing he had done in the name of revenge. He still did not, and never could, think of demons as anything other than worthless hellspawn, but his heart nearly failed him when he recalled that blend of horror and disappointment on Saiya's face as she walked through the goatmen's village and saw what he had done. He never wanted to see that look on her face again.

And yet Ghor now had a similar expression as she stared down at the demon prisoners. She said, "I can sense no evil from them, _rafiki_. I do not think they are capable of malice, or even of thought. They exist without knowing why, and all their awareness is of anguish. I grieve to think of any sentient being living solely through torment, demon or no."

"What would you do?" he asked quietly. "Free them? What sort of life would they have, deprived of their only purpose? They were clearly bred for this. Monstrous, yes, but we are talking about the Lord of Sin here."

"I would end their pain," she said.

He smiled – not his usual bloodthirsty grin, but a kind and gentle smile – and said, "If we can find a way, we will. I promise."

"Thank you," said Ghor. His jet-black eyes were bright with unshed tears.

Once on the platform, the only way forward was down a spiraling staircase that took them into the depths of the tower. As they traveled it, they got a closer view of the giant demons, and Baal began to see what Ghor was so upset about. They were not holding up the structure, as he had imagined. Rather, it seemed as though the whole place was designed to hold _them_ up, the barbed chains wrapping around them like blackberry brambles meant to cause as much agony as possible. Baal wondered what function they served in their master's plan, and quickly decided that he'd rather not know.

"Don't look now," Caesar whispered in his ear, "but there's a bunch of ghouls on the stairs above us, and they definitely know that we're here."

The Hunter spared a glance over his shoulder. There were indeed ghouls, and something else as well: a larger demon with blades attached to its arms that appeared to be commanding them. His heart sank at the thought of another grueling battle which would further drain what precious resources still remained to them.

"Run," he said. "Now! Hurry! I'll cover us."

"Allow me," said Caesar. With a flick of his wrist, he erected a wall of ice that neatly blocked off the way back. "That should delay them for a few minutes at least. Hopefully long enough for us to get away."

"Well, don't wait around to see!" Baal snapped. "Run!"

They ran, taking the steps two or three at a time, the acrid air ragged in their lungs. Once Freja tripped, nearly sending both herself and Ghor flying headlong into the abyss, but Baal grabbed her elbow reflexively and steadied her. He thought he heard a muttered 'thanks', but couldn't be sure.

Caesar was in the lead when they finally reached the bottom, but he stopped dead in his tracks so suddenly that Ghor ran into his back, sending both of them sprawling in a heap. Baal was leaning down to help them up when he saw what had startled the wizard.

Saiya was standing in the middle of the doorway directly ahead of them.

" _Nuur il'-en!"_ he breathed, too shocked to move. Her clothing was torn and stained with dirt, her face sweaty and hair tousled, but she appeared to be unharmed. She grinned, raising a hand in greeting.

"Hey! Fancy running into you guys here."

"What … what the hell …" Caesar was staggering to his feet, reaching out to her as if to confirm she was real. "Saiya! Gods, I've been so worried about you! I-" Faltering, he shot a guilty glance at Baal. _"We …"_

"Are you okay?" Baal cut in. "You're not hurt at all?"

"No. I'm a bit tired, though."

"How did you escape from Azmodan?" Ghor inquired.

"It's a long story. Are we getting out of here, or what?"

Baal was feeling uneasy. He could not account for it, since all other emotion _should_ have been overpowered by his great relief at seeing Saiya alive and well. But there was a curious insistence at the back of his mind that something was wrong, and the rigorous training the Hunters had subjected him to would not permit him to ignore it.

"We aren't going back until we've put an end to this evil," he said, "but if you'd rather rest, Caesar will warp you back to the Keep."

Saiya shook her head, the light of determination blazing in her eyes. "No, I'll stay with you."

"I'm glad." For a brief moment, he allowed his shell to crack a little, and a tiny bit of his true self to shine through. He embraced her swiftly, pressing his cheek against hers, and whispered in her ear, _"Ahebbouka."_

"What is noise?" Freja asked. "Do all you hear?"

They all froze, listening. There was a deep steady throb in the background, more felt than heard, like the rhythm of some primordial drum in the earth's core. It had been audible for a while, Baal realized, but they had only now begun to notice it.

"Oh, that?" said Saiya. "Come, I'll show you." She turned and started to walk back down the passage from whence she had come, and they followed her.

"I do not like this," murmured Ghor, her eyes wide. Caesar reached up to lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Me neither," he admitted, "but we must go on. We'll be alright if we stay together."

At the end of the tunnel was a large, open room, surprisingly well lit. And in the center of it lay something so abhorrent, so contrary to the laws of existence, that for a moment none of them could believe their eyes.

It was a gigantic heart, bereft of a body to hold it, exposed to the open air and yet somehow still pulsing with life, pumping fire into veins of steel that ran underneath the floor and connected with the walls of the tower. Baal searched through his memory until he found the relevant details, gleaned from an ancient manuscript in the archives of his order.

"That's a Sin Heart," he said. "There are two of them, and they power Azmodan's armies and his war machines. This must be the reason for all those demon prisoners out there; their suffering sustains the hearts."

"Can you sense it in your blood?" Saiya murmured. Her voice was like a song, entrancing and beautiful. "Listen; it fills you up, brimming, burning, thriving and thrumming. Let go and fall into it, as I have done. Let go. Let the blood take you. Let go."

The primal heartbeats were increasing in speed now, as a human heart might race with excitement. Baal's body was responding to it against his will. With a titanic effort, he forced his eyes shut and concentrated on breathing in a deliberately arrhythmic pattern. _Deep inhale, short exhale, deep inhale, short exhale, short inhale. I will not submit to this._

"Caesar," he said, his voice distorted by whatever magic hung heavy in the air, "Ghor, Freja … fight it. You have to fight it!"

There was no response from his companions. Cursing, he opened his eyes. It was much worse than he had feared. The room was full of demons with feminine forms, their naked bodies glistening. Two of them had twined themselves around Caesar, who appeared to be completely lost, his head tilted back as the succubi kissed his throat and ran their long fingers through his hair. Freja, too, was standing stock still, a rather dreamy expression on her face. On her back, Ghor swayed her head from side to side, humming vacantly to herself. He was the only one of the group with his wits still about him.

Saiya – or whatever had taken her form – weaved towards him with a seductive smile on her face. She lifted a hand and ran her finger down his cheek, her nail scratching the skin. Baal gritted his teeth.

"I want nothing to do with you, demon," he snarled. "Don't think I won't kill you just because you've taken _her_ appearance."

"Are you sure?" the succubus crooned. "Think of the fun we could have! If this shape displeases you, I'd be happy to wear another one." In the blink of an eye, Vera was standing before him, just as he remembered her.

His reaction was visceral, an intense wave of nausea that made his stomach heave. The lascivious grin fitted Vera's countenance much more than his little monk's; he had seen the same expression from her many times before. The likeness was perfect, and it brought up roiling memories of everything he had hated and desired about her.

"Don't touch me!" he spat. "Don't you dare touch me, you filth!"

"Oh, very well," said the demon, in a tone that indicated she thought he was horrendously boring. She turned and walked over to Caesar, flickering back into Saiya's form as she did so.

"What about this?" she asked, laying both hands flat on the wizard's chest, while looking over her shoulder at him to gauge his reaction. "Do you prefer to watch?"

Caesar groaned under her touch, quivering. _"Saiya …"_ he breathed. "Oh gods …"

Baal scowled. Succubi are known for being cleverer than most of their kind, and he understood very well that the she was trying to use his jealousy against him. It was working. He didn't blame Caesar for losing himself to the seductive magic, for few who had not been trained could resist it, but he was annoyed that temptation had to come in the form of his beloved. Caesar's weakness for her was no surprise, of course, he had known _that_ , but all the same he'd hoped that his friend might be a bit stronger.

Something had to be done. And since he was the only person clear-headed enough to do it, the task fell to him. He pulled Thaqib from its holster and began to fire directly into the hideous bulk of the Sin Heart.

Instantly, the demons began to scream, their lovely voices changed to a raucous shrieking. The sound hurt his ears, but he couldn't cover them and continue to shoot at the same time. As he pumped bolt after bolt into the fleshy mass, the succubi left their respective victims and converged on him. He reached for his other crossbow, backing up towards the stairs. In the open room, he would be quickly surrounded and killed. If he could force them into attacking him in the tunnel, he could hold his own for a while.

Then, just before the first one reached him, a familiar cry rang out, and Gawahir swooped down from the darkness above, alighting on Baal's shoulder with precision. He spread his wings out menacingly, spitting insults at the encroaching demons.

"About time you showed up, you feathered idiot," Baal said fondly. "Go see what you can do about the others. Peck them if you have to, I don't care. Just wake them up."

With a disgruntled squawk, the raven launched himself once again into the air. One of the succubi leaped after him, clawed hand outstretched, but an arrow from Qarasahin tore through her shimmering wings, bringing her crashing down. He finished her off and turned on her brethren.

He had never faced succubi before, though their sisters the Sirens had caused him a fair amount of trouble in the port town of Seatham several years before. But it soon became apparent that they were dangerous only when they had the advantage. Their limbs were fragile compared to others of their kind, and they did not possess the savagery that made hellspawn such formidable foes. They murdered through trickery and wile rather than brute force, and when faced with a skilled opponent who was immune to their charms, they were helpless. Within a minute, he had finished them off – with a little help from his companions, who thanks to Gawahir had regained their senses.

"Everybody alright?" he asked as he went around collecting arrows from the corpses.

"Your damn pigeon bit my ear," Caesar griped.

"I feel … strange," said Ghor, shaking her head. "Like I have just woken from a deep sleep."

"Me too," Freja added. "Where little woman go?"

A look of horrified realization was beginning to dawn on the wizard's face. He said, "That wasn't Saiya, was it."

"No," replied Baal. "That was a succubus. And the reason that you all feel weird is that you've been in a trance for the last few minutes. It should wear off soon."

"Who took out my ponytail?" Caesar demanded. "And why is my neck wet?"

"The succubus got a little personal."

"Baal! You just stood there and let it molest me?"

"I was busy."

"It could have bitten my throat out! Or strangled me! Or any number of awful things."

"Boys!" Freja exclaimed. "Enough fight! You two as bad as husband and wife."

"You're right," Baal agreed. "Grow up, Caesar! Right now, we need to concentrate on how to destroy this thing."

"Leave to me," insisted the Barbarian. "I can do, no problem." Raising her greatsword high over her head, she brought it forcefully down again, cleaving the heart in two with a single blow. Having no idea what to expect, they were totally unprepared for the torrent of blood that spewed forth, washing across the platform in a wave about four inches deep and spilling over the edge in a crimson waterfall. Hurriedly, they sloshed their way over to the stairs that led down on the other side.

"Disgusting," Caesar complained, shaking his feet with the air of a cat whose paws have gotten wet. "And you say there's another one?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Baal began, but he was interrupted by a sibilant voice from the shadows around them.

" _Ooh, you wicked creatures, I'll make you regret what you've done."_

"Show yourself!" the Hunter shouted.

" _Soon, my lovely, soon,"_ the unseen speaker hissed. _"I've been watching you for a while, and I'm positively aching to play with you. I hope that my daughters were enough to satisfy you in the meantime."_

"What is it?" Caesar whispered. "Another demon?"

Baal nodded. "That, if I am not mistaken, is Cydaea, also known as the Maiden of Lust. She is Azmodan's consort."

" _You know my name!"_ crooned the voice. _"I'm terribly flattered, darling. I may even consent to a personal audience."_

"We must take care," Baal warned the others. "She is not to be trifled with. And since she knows that we're here, her master must know as well. Let us hope that he underestimates us."

The path they were on led out of the tower and back into the close, hot tunnels of the crater. As they walked, Baal listened to Gawahir's report, which at first seemed heartening. Saiya had been unharmed when the raven left her, imprisoned on a ledge in Arreat's core. Granted, several hours had passed since then, but he hoped that if Azmodan had left her alone thus far, that he would continue to.

Yet in the darkest corners of his mind, he knew that it was a futile hope, doomed to fail, that the Lord of Sin would show neither mercy nor restraint. He knew that the goal of their mission was quite likely to turn from rescue to revenge. For one brief moment, he let the possibility of Saiya's death drive through him like a sword of fire, felt his soul splinter beneath its weight, felt the light depart from his life. He staggered and nearly fell.

"No," he breathed. "She will not die. She will _not_ die."

It was like a mantra, and he repeated it over and over again, not caring who heard him. He imagined the words building an invisible shield around her, the magnitude of his love protecting her from evil.

 _Please,_ he thought, _if there is any good in this world at all, if what we've been fighting for has any meaning or purpose, let Saiya live. I cannot go on without her._

By this time, they had been on their feet for hours, fighting their way through enemy territory with no reprieve, and exhaustion was beginning to set in. They had not eaten, or even quenched their thirst. Ghor and Baal were wounded. The bitter awareness that there was more to come, and that it would only get worse, was corroding their strength of will. They stumbled along in a bad dream, and thought only of rest.

"Do you think," Caesar asked at one point, "that we've actually wandered into Hell?"

"I think we've been there all along," Baal answered quietly.

Every so often, they would encounter demons – a few stray ghouls wandering around, or a minor siegebeast. Baal, trying to conserve his limited ammunition, was content to let Freja do most of the work. The Barbarian seemed invincible, untouched by weariness or despair, her head held proudly high as she marched through the despoiled halls of her ancestors. It occurred to Baal, though he did not say so, that without her help, they would not even have made it this far.

Eventually, they came to the second tower. As they passed through the gateway and started down the stairs, Cydaea's voice echoed in the air around them.

" _I do hope that you're not in over your heads, my lovelies. I've gotten so worked up about meeting you. If you die too quickly, I will be very disappointed."_

Baal glanced at his companions and said, "Well, I guess we're going the right way."

Caesar caught his eye and chuckled. "You know, I've found that demons who talk a lot are usually the easiest ones to defeat. It's the ones who have nothing to say that you need to watch out for."

"Yeah," said Baal. "Like Belial. Oh, he seemed big and dangerous, but in the end, he was just a poser. I mean, he had to disguise himself as a human _child_ just to avoid detection. Pathetic, isn't it?"

"I'll bet that Azmodan isn't much better," the wizard announced. "After all, he's been hiding in a corner this whole time, letting his troops do the hard work. A _real_ commander would have come out and smashing his enemies in person."

" _You humans think that you're so clever, trying to anger me,"_ sneered Cydaea. _"But I know your most shameful secrets. Shall I tell them to you? You, the Hunter, the one who calls himself Baal. Your past is quite delicious, isn't it?"_

"Ignore her," Baal said to Caesar, who had grown suddenly quiet. "She'll say anything she can to divide us."

" _You're quite the masochist, aren't you?"_ Cydaea purred. _"Pain excites you, brings out your darker side. With a little bit of work, my pet, you could become an admirable addition to my menagerie. Perhaps I will beg my Lord Azmodan to be allowed to keep you once I am finished with you."_

Baal's mouth tightened. He was determined not to let her malicious taunting get the better of him, though he had to admit that he'd rather not have his private desires revealed to his friends.

But the demon had no intention of stopping; if anything, she seemed to be enjoying herself. _"Yes,"_ she said. _"You'd like that, wouldn't you? I would inflict the most exquisite pain on you, my dear Hunter. I assure you that I am very talented, even better than Vera."_

He flinched involuntarily. To hear that name from the lips of an enemy, _here_ , when he was already so vulnerable …

" _Remember how you begged her to whip you?"_ Cydaea continued cruelly. _"How you groveled at her feet while she aimed an empty crossbow at your head and pulled the trigger over and over again? Remember how she whispered the names of your dead family in your ears as you-"_

"Oh, who cares?" Caesar snapped, glaring angrily up into the shadows. "So what if he gets off on being hurt? I doubt that any of us are going to judge him for it."

"That is true," said Ghor. "I prefer to have sex with women rather than men. I am not ashamed of it."

"I sleep with man who is not husband," Freja proclaimed.

"There, you see?" said Caesar. "It's not a big deal, so you can stop with the shock tactics."

Cydaea fell silent, while Baal stared at his companions in amazement. He had not expected them to stand up for him, and in such a bold manner. He had been sure that they would look at him differently, once they knew … but no. They did not try to avoid his gaze or spurn him in any way. Instead, they had joined him, their own admissions forming a subtler but much more powerful bond than if they had simply turned a blind eye. He felt gratitude blossom in his chest, warming him to the bone.

" _Indeed,"_ Cydaea said after a long pause. _"I am impressed. It seems that you are an unusually tolerant group of human beings. But for all that, Baal, I wonder how tolerant_ you _would be if I were to tell you what your supposed friend has been doing in your absence."_

Baal sighed. "You're wasting your breath there, Cydaea. I know about that already."

" _You know,"_ she replied, her tone silky, _"but knowing is different than seeing. Shall I show you what they said, how they touched each other, when they knew you were not there to stop them?"_

As she spoke, an image weaved itself in Baal's mind, stronger and more potent than any memory. The darkened interior of a tent, and two forms lying side by side, covered by a single blanket.

" _Do you dream about me?" the woman asked._

" _Yes," replied the man. "Often. But never in such detail. This isn't a dream, though. You're really here, really -" The rest of his sentence was lost in a groan of pleasure._

" _Wh-what about Baal?"_

" _What about him? He's not here, is he?" said the woman. "You are. He doesn't want me. You do. And I want_ you _, Caesar. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to realize it."_

The vision faded, but it had left its mark. Anger boiled behind the cage he had placed on his emotions, vicious and consuming. His vision was tinted red. He could not look at Caesar, for he was sure that if he did, his last vestige of control would slip away.

Cydaea's goal had been to weaken him, but if anything, her interference had strengthened his resolve. He felt alert again, a blade honed to keenness and ready to kill. A wicked grin revealed his sharp canines as he said, "She's very close now. I can smell her."

"I'm looking forward to it," Caesar growled, girding himself in ice with a sweep of his hand.

Together, the four Nephalem walked down the last few steps and into the room beyond, where the final Sin Heart awaited them.

* * *

 **Leaving me reviews is like leaving cookies out for Santa: you get better ... presents? Is that how it works? Thanks for reading, everyone! :P  
**


	14. 14 - Vengeance

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Dunkle Wolken und finstere gedanken  
Die Vollmondnacht zerbricht meine Schranken  
In mir kommt die Gier auf Getier, dass ich massakrier  
Spür diese Lust auf Blut jetzt und hier  
Tief in die Nacht die funkelnden Sterne  
Ein sußer Geruch zeiht mich in die Ferne  
Aber Acht wenn ganz sacht in der Nacht meine Glut entfacht  
Und der Jäger in mir erwacht."  
 **  
"Dark clouds and dark thoughts  
The full-moon night shatters my barriers  
I feel the desire to massacre animals  
Feel this lust for blood, here and now  
Deep in the night, the glowing stars  
A sweet scent pulls me into the distance  
But beware, for if my passion rises, gently in the night  
The hunter in me will wake."  
\- E Nomine  
"Das Tier in Mir" (The Beast in Me)**_

* * *

 **Surprise! I bet you guys weren't expecting another chapter so soon! Haha, I just couldn't stop writing this one ... I'd love it if all my updates were so fast, but of course I can't promise anything. I'd love feedback, though! :D I was so thrilled that this story hit 100 reviews after last chapter, it really made my day! You guys are awesome!**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Vengeance

Baal had been expecting an ambush, and so was neither surprised nor relieved when the chamber proved to be deserted. There was a magical barrier around the heart, which he suspected was linked to the life-force of a certain demon, probably Cydaea. Slay her, and the heart would be open.

"Don't touch that," he warned Freja, who was reaching out toward the barrier. "It'll hurt you."

The Barbarian scoffed, but withdrew her hand. Ghor said, "You may set me down now, _rafiki_. You will need all your mobility in a moment, I fear."

Obediently, Freja knelt, and with Caesar's assistance, Ghor slid down from her back. He guided her to a corner of the room, helping her to sit.

"Don't worry," he said, patting her hand. "We've got this one covered. You just sit tight and save all your energy for what's to come."

"That is … wise," Ghor admitted. "I shall do my best."

"Hey, Cydaea!" shouted Baal. "You wanted to see us, didn't you? Here we are! Come out and play, unless you've lost your nerve!"

From above came a lascivious moan, echoing around the walls until the room sounded as though it was housing an orgy. A large silhouette became visible against the ceiling, dropping rapidly towards them. The reddish light shone softly on porcelain skin and glinted off hardened carapaces as the Maiden of Lust revealed herself.

She was repulsive, and yet bizarrely alluring: a strange combination of beauty and horror. From the waist up, she resembled a human female, albeit a rather fiendish one. She was dressed provocatively in a low-cut corset, and her face was partially hidden by a coquettish veil, so that the only feature visible was a pair of full lips, painted black. But at her hips, everything changed, her form mutating into that of a spider, more delicate than Aranaea but no less massive and terrifying. Each of her eight legs, obscenely parted, was sheathed in ornate armor and ended in a four-foot spike. Her abdomen, mottled gold and black, was equipped with a stinger that oozed poison.

She landed before him with surprising grace, considering her size, and severed the string that she had used to descend. Eying him up and down, she said, "Oh my! You're even better-looking than I imagined, darling! I'm definitely going to keep you, though I'll have to get rid of your pesky friends first."

"I'd rather die than be your slave," Baal growled, raising both crossbows to aim directly at her face. But he never got a chance to fire, for as soon as he moved, Cydaea reared up and lashed out at him with her front legs, and he had to backflip away from her to avoid being run through.

With a fearsome cry, Freja came charging in from the side. Cydaea scuttled away from her, crablike, keeping just out of range as she led the Barbarian in a circle around the room. Baal fired a few shots at her, but he couldn't really open up for fear of hitting his ally instead. He cursed himself for not taking the time to make more bombs, or even a trap or two. Cydaea was obviously reliant entirely on speed to be her defense; if they could force her to remain stationary, they could hack her to pieces.

As soon as he thought it, the obvious solution occurred to him. "Caesar!" he shouted. "Keep her still!"

"On it," grunted the wizard. At the demon rushed by him with Freja in hot pursuit, he released an icy blast from his gloved palm. It struck Cydaea at the joint of her 'waist', where the bloated abdomen connected to her legs – a weak spot on any spider. But either she was too powerful, or Caesar's spell was feeble, for though her movements slowed a little bit, she was not fully frozen, as Baal had hoped. Instead she stopped and spun around, dealing out a vicious blow with her leg that Freja only just managed to dodge.

This put her back to him, however, and he did not miss the chance to fire everything he had. The curvature of her abdomen, coupled with its hard surface, meant that most of his bolts ricocheted off. But the ones that struck near her stinger found softer flesh, and went deep. Cydaea shrieked, stomping her legs.

"Wicked boy," she gasped, "to cause me such pain!"

"Stick around," said the Hunter in response. "There's a lot more waiting for you."

A moment later, he wished that he'd kept his mouth shut, for she made a dash for the wall and was up it before any of them could stop her, fading into the shadows.

"Damn fuck!" yelled Freja, who appeared to have learned some expressive language from Lyndon without proper lessons on how to apply it coherently. "Come back and fight, spider bitch!"

"What's wrong with the floor?" Caesar asked suddenly. Baal glanced down to see that the center of the platform was bubbling like a heated cauldron. A horde of the multi-legged creatures that they had fought earlier poured forth. Baal groaned.

"This is wasting our time," he said. "You two deal with them; I'll take care of Cydaea."

Gawahir had launched from his shoulder as soon as their foe vanished, and was now circling the area, scouting for traces of her. On the ground, Baal kept pace, eyes trained on his faithful minion. When the raven began to flutter madly, shrieking, _"Found her! Found her!"_ , he raised Thaqib and unleashed a flurry of bolts. A large patch of darkness disengaged and scurried across the ceiling, and he tracked her, still firing.

"Why do you hate me so?" the demon wailed, her unearthly voice slicing into his mind. "All I wanted was to please you! We could have been the best of friends!"

Baal snorted, recalling something that Vera had said to him once, when he asked her whether they were friends or enemies. _"Who needs enemies when I have a friend like you, Baal?"_ she had replied. He had thought it funny at the time. Now it just struck him as sad. He had never been able to tell her so, but he would have loved her if she had allowed him to.

"Baal!" Caesar cried. "Behind you! Two of them got through!"

He spun around, stomping down on one of the creatures and pinning it to the floor. The other he transfixed with a bolt – the last in his clip. As he went to reload, he felt a sharp prick on the side of his knee. The trapped spiderling, lashing its tail, had managed to score a hit.

Snarling, he ground its head under his heel, killing it, but it was too late. His leg was already stiffening, the joint growing immobile. Fearing that Cydaea would try to isolate him while he was weak, he hobbled over to his companions as quickly as he could. Caesar reached out to steady him, saying, "Shit, I'm sorry, that was my fault. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he grumbled. "Luckily it got my bad leg."

"How is that _lucky_?"

Baal rolled his eyes. "Because if it had been the other one, I wouldn't be able to walk at all. Idiot."

Freja had taken up an odd position, feet spread apart, back straight, and shoulders squared. Repeatedly, she raised her weapon over her head and let it fall straight down, stopping it an inch before it hit the floor.

"What are you doing?" Caesar asked.

"I have good thought," she said confidently. "Get spider bitch down."

"If your plan involves swinging that big sword of yours at the ceiling, then let me stop you right there," Baal said. "We don't want to cause a cave in."

The Barbarian turned and shoved him violently backwards. Staggering, he barely managed to keep himself upright. For a moment, he could not understand her aggression – had he pissed her off that badly by stopping her? – but then something landed quivering in the stone at his feet: one of his own arrows, but glistening a poisonous green.

Freja had blocked two more of the projectiles with the blade of her sword. She shook her head, saying, "We wait too long already."

"She's teasing us right now," Baal said. "That means she's relaxed; she's not taking us seriously. That's a good thing."

"She's teasing us because she knows she can," snapped Caesar. "We can't let her draw this out any longer, Baal."

"I know," he replied. "I've got an idea. Can you power up one of my bolts?"

"What do you want, exactly?"

"It doesn't matter. Something spectacular."

Caesar thought for a moment, and then grinned. "Okay. Hand me your bow."

Baal obliged. The wizard ran the tip of his wand along the surface of the bolt, leaving the wooden shaft glittering with frost. He returned the weapon handle-first. Baal took careful aim at the place where the arrows had come from, and then, spurred by a sudden intuition, shifted his sights about three feet to the left and let fly.

At first, nothing extraordinary seemed to happen. But when the bolt was approximately halfway to its intended target, there was a bone-shattering roar, and it was enveloped in serpentine body, similar to the hydra that Caesar had summoned before, but with only one head. The creature spiraled through the air, shedding snowflakes as it went, and burst upon the rocks where Cydaea clung in a splash of ice. The Maiden of Lust plunged downwards, screaming as she went, and landed on her back with a juddering crash. Her eight legs twitched and spasmed.

Even before she hit the ground, Freja was dashing in. With a single sweep of her blade, she severed two of Cydaea's legs. Before she could attack a second time, however, the demon managed to flip herself upright. Quickly, she retreated, the stumps of her missing limbs wiggling grotesquely as she tried to move them.

"Traitors!" she hissed. "Foul and corrupt, spoiling my beautiful body! What will my lord think of me now? I'll be cast out, abandoned, left to die – all thanks to you! Oh, humans are far crueler than I ever imagined they could be!"

"Look who's talking," said Baal. "What's the matter, Cydaea? Can't stand the taste of your own medicine?"

She was limping now, her remaining legs trembling with strain. "Please!" she sobbed, hands clasped together. "Don't kill me! I'll do anything you like …"

"Too bad," Baal said coldly. "What we desire is your death."

Freja stepped in to deliver the finishing blow, but Cydaea was not quite as helpless as she had seemed. Her front leg unfurled with the speed of a whip, striking the sword from Freja's hands and knocking her over. In a flash she was atop her victim, the stinger on her abdomen hovering menacingly.

Caesar didn't hesitate. His palm shot out, producing an ice beam that hit Cydaea square in the chest, freezing her. It was all the opportunity that Freja needed to wiggle free and grab her weapon. As the spell's effect began to wear off, she brought the blade down in a mighty arc, cleaving the demon in two at the waist. Cydaea's last expression was full of astonishment as she stared at them. A small gurgle escaped from her throat. Then her legs collapsed under her and her upper body slid forward and landed face-first on the ground. The barrier over the Sin Heart died with her.

Without a word, Freja walked to the Heart and stabbed it, twisting her sword viciously before pulling it free. Punctured, the massive organ shriveled as its lifeblood leaked away.

"Well," said Baal, "I'm down to sixteen arrows, including the ones that are already loaded into my bows. Let's hope we don't meet anything else on the way to Azmodan."

Caesar nodded in weary agreement. His normally pale face had taken on the sickly grayish hue that indicated his arcane reserves were dangerously low. At least Ghor looked the better for her brief rest, and Freja was still as vigorous as ever, crouching to allow the witch doctor to climb on her back once again.

In grim silence, they continued on past Cydaea's corpse and down the stairs on the other side of the chamber. The first few steps were hell for Baal, his wounded leg exploding with agony whenever he put his weight on it. For a delirious moment, he contemplated asking Caesar for a piggy-back ride as well. But the pain grew more tolerable with each step until he could walk with only a slight limp. Probably, he figured, something to do with movement increasing the blood flow, which had been impeded by the spiderlings' venom.

At the bottom of the stairs, they were met with a blast of heat rushing up through the arched doorway. Freja was the first through, and she stopped dead in her tracks. The others peered past her, staring awestruck at the sight before them.

At last, they had reached the crater – a colossal bowl scooped from the earth, a wound so deep that the world's lifeblood oozed thick and hot from the stone. The lake of lava was perhaps a mile wide, perhaps larger, and it created a haze of black smoke that blocked out all sight of the sky. It had been visible from Bastion's Keep, a constant plume billowing skyward, but from such a distance there had been no way of imagining what it was like to actually be there, mere feet from the molten core of Sanctuary.

"Arreat," whispered Freja. "The birthplace of my people. I will die happy now."

"It's quite something," said Caesar. "How in Heaven's name are we supposed to cross it?"

"There are pathways," Baal said, pointing.

"Yes," grumbled the wizard. "Narrow pathways that look like they might sink at any moment. Splendid."

"To fall in Arreat's burning water is glorious death," Freja proclaimed.

Caesar snorted. "Replace 'glorious' with 'excruciating' and you've got it right."

"You are not _bojovnici,_ you cannot understand. This place calls to me. It makes my bones sing."

"It'll make your bones _melt_ if you get too close to it, Freja, so just stay away from the edges, okay?"

"Mage is worried!" Freja said, grinning. "So sweet."

"Come on, all of you," said Baal. "Let's get moving."

With the Barbarian in the lead, they followed the bridge of black stone as it snaked its way through the lava. Curved spikes of stone rose up like fangs on either side of the path, so that it seemed like they were walking into the maw of some ancient and terrible beast. Scattered here and there were piles of bleached bones. Curious, Baal took a closer look at one and realized that they were human.

Like the interior of mountain, the paths were tangled and confusing: doubling back, ending abruptly, or sometimes disappearing into the fiery depths below. They picked their way as best they could, retreating when necessary. The going was slow and laborious. The relentless heat seemed to drain their stamina even more than fighting, and had an added stupefying effect on their minds. Even Freja was looking rather glassy-eyed after twenty minutes.

"This is worse than the desert!" Caesar groaned after they had once again been forced to turn around and go back. "I think I've sweated out every drop of moisture in my body. Does anybody have any water?"

Baal shook his head. "No. We wanted to travel light, remember? Besides, it would be warm by now, anyway."

"I don't care," Caesar said. "I'd drink it anyway."

At that moment, a sudden wind whipped through the crater, parting the smoke for a brief instant, and they caught a glimpse of an enormous structure off to the left, looming over them.

"There," said Baal. "That's where he'll be, I guarantee it."

"And if we find Azmodan," said Ghor, "then we will find Saiya."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Caesar cried, breaking into a jog. Baal hurried after him as rapidly as he could, trying to prepare himself mentally for whatever he would find.

They climbed the stairs to the door, which had been bashed open by a great force. Entering, the found themselves in a wide-open space lit by thin waterfalls of lava, which were captured in a trench around the perimeter of the room and directed through channels that covered the floor in an intricate pattern. It had obviously been a place of worship once, but Baal was not interested in the historical value of the temple. His attention was fixed solely on the altar in the center of the chamber, and the woman stretched out on it, her bare body dwarfed by the huge slab of stone. She was motionless.

"No!" Caesar's voice was strangled. "No, Saiya!"

In the shadows behind the altar, a vast body stirred, eyes igniting and teeth showing black against the burning throat as the mouth split open. The ground shook as he rose up from the dais on which he sat.

"Nephalem fools!" Azmodan rumbled. "I warned you what would happen if you crossed me, did I not? Now you will pay the consequences for your meddling."

Baal barely felt his knees hitting the ground. He heard a voice call his name as if from a great distance but couldn't muster the will to respond. Foolishly, he had believed that he would never again experience anything as painful as the day that his family was murdered; but this was so much worse. Saiya was gone. He had come all of this way to save her and he had failed.

She was gone, and with her his hopes of a better future, his light, his laughter, his place of peace. All gone, wiped out in a single instant. He knelt there, broken and defeated, and prayed that the same fate that had taken her would also strike him down. And all the while, deep in his soul, something dark and ugly raged and clawed itself apart, hungering to escape. It frightened him. He had never unleashed his full power, had never submitted completely to his hatred, but now there was nothing stopping him save his inability to care. What did it matter now, if Azmodan died? Saiya would not return to him. His grief and his fury were as impotent as rain falling in the ocean.

There was someone crouching in front of him, shouting at him. The words were foreign and incomprehensible. Why should he answer? There was nothing to say.

But then came a sharp blow to his cheek, stinging even through his torpor. A face came into focus. Grey eyes. Caesar.

"What?" he said thickly. "What do you want?"

"Wake up, asshole!" the wizard snapped. "She's not dead!"

Abruptly, Baal realized that Caesar was carrying Saiya in his arms. He had wrapped her in his coat, and her head lay against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed. Baal's hand moved of its own accord, reaching out to stroke her cheek with trembling fingers. She was warm, and as he touched her, she stirred, her lashes fluttering.

"Saiya," he breathed. _"Nuur il'-en,_ can you hear me?"

Her lips parted, and the smallest of noises emerged. It sounded like, _"Baal."_

Tears blurred his vision. "Yes," he said. "Yes, love, I'm here. I'm right here. Everything's going to be okay now. You're safe."

"I can't tell whether or not she's injured," Caesar murmured. "She _looks_ unharmed, but …"

"Then get her out of here!" Baal exclaimed. "You shouldn't need me to tell you that!"

Caesar shook his head. "I can't. I barely even made it out to the altar and back. I'm afraid that if I try to warp again, I'll miss my destination."

Baal raked a hand through his hair – no easy feat with how tangled it had become. He knew it was mostly his fault for having asked too much of the wizard on their journey here, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. Glancing over Caesar's shoulder, he gauged the battle in a quick glance. Currently, Freja was holding her own against the demon lord, expertly dodging his attacks and countering with blows of her own, but even she could not last forever against such a mighty opponent. Ghor appeared to be in the midst of a summoning ritual, which, if she was given the chance to complete it, might well turn the tide in their favor.

"Alright," he said. "Alright, new plan. I'm going to fight. You just stay with Saiya and … look out for her, please."

"I will," Caesar promised.

Baal stood and started towards the other side of the arena, then stopped and stared back at them. "I'm trusting you," he said.

Caesar inclined his head in acknowledgement of the weight which had been placed on him. He said, "I would give my life to protect her."

Baal felt something twist in his gut as he turned away. At first he attributed it to his extreme relief and gratitude that Saiya was still alive. But it was not a pleasant feeling – far from it, in fact – and he soon identified it as resentment: that Caesar, and not he, had been the one to pick Saiya up, to feel the pulse of life within her veins. And now, when he wanted to hold her the most, it was Caesar's arms cradling her. If she woke, it would be Caesar's face she would see.

The words that Cydaea had thrown at him ran through his mind once again: _"What about Baal? He's not here, is he? You are. He doesn't want me. You do. And I want_ you _, Caesar. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to realize it."_

A shout jerked him back to reality. There was a red-hot orb of pulsating magic heading his way, conjured no doubt by Azmodan. He dodged to the side, but the blast radius was larger than he had been expecting, and he had to jump back yet again.

Freja was flagging, he could tell. There were numerous superficial cuts and burns all over her body, while none of her attacks had inflicted any real harm. The problem, Baal thought, was that she was fighting Azmodan from the ground, where the only target available to her was his crab-like, armored legs. The demon lord's only weak spots – his mouth and the pits of his arms, where the flesh was soft – were above her reach, and well-guarded.

Baal checked his quiver. Of the eleven arrows that remained in it, only one was explosive. He fitted that bolt into Qarasahin and knelt, taking careful aim. When Azmodan raised his arms to cast another spell, the Hunter let fly. It was a good shot, dead on target, and it did substantial damage. When the smoke had cleared, Azmodan's right arm hung uselessly by his side, the shoulder joint partially separated. Fiery blood ran down from the wound and dripped to the floor, hissing where it hit the stone.

As Baal stood, Azmodan turned to face him, eyes narrowed. "Impudent boy," he spat. "Have you no respect for your betters?"

Baal, expecting retaliation, was prepared to dodge, but none came. Azmodan just sat and stared at him as though trying to simply wish him dead. Freja came sprinting in from the side to hack at his legs, but he ignored her.

" _Baal!"_ squawked Gawahir, fluttering desperately around his master's head. _"Baal! Run!"_

Suddenly he remembered the warnings which had been scrawled in a shaking hand on old parchment in the library of his order. _Do not under any circumstances allow him to look upon you for too long. His gaze will devour you heart and soul, and leave only smoldering remains._

"I'm an idiot," he muttered, trying to move. It was strangely difficult. His body was numb, refusing to respond to his brain's insistence that it shift itself. A cold sweat stood out on his forehead, and his heartbeat felt sluggish.

In a flash of black feathers, Gawahir was between him and the terrible, penetrating eyes, wings outstretched, screaming bold defiance at the Lord of Sin. He hung for a second in the air … and then fell. Baal caught the raven before he could hit the ground, holding the limp form to his chest. Gawahir's sacrifice had not been in vain; he could move again, and move he did, sprinting to the edge of the room, where he laid his little friend gently down on a broken pillar.

" _Leyaqetli qus,"_ he whispered. _"Siz sahin olmali idi."_

A great portal was opening in the floor. Baal cursed, his already rock-bottom morale dropping even further at the thought of facing some new threat. But it was not one of Azmodan's minions who emerged, but the giant toad Churamungu, answering Ghor's call. The demon lord actually recoiled in surprise upon seeing it, and hope flared once again in Baal's heart.

"What is this?" demanded Azmodan. "Crows, frogs … am I doing battle with Nephalem, or woodland animals?"

Churamungu squatted, completely motionless apart from his bulging, blinking eyes, in the middle of the room. Baal was just beginning to think that the god was refusing to fight when he leaped with startling power, barreling into Azmodan hard enough to knock him over. The two titans struggled for dominance, rolling back and forth. Freja scrambled out of their way to avoid being crushed.

After a few moments, Churamungu managed to gain his enemy's back, clinging with the horned pads on his feet. His barbed tongue shot out and snaked around Azmodan's neck like a noose. Azmodan flailed around, but he could not dislodge the toad. His face began to turn purple, blood running down his chest in rivulets from the gashes in his throat.

Baal turned away, his need to see Saiya overriding his desire to watch the demon lord die. But he had taken only two steps when Ghor cried out in despair. Azmodan had reached behind him, taken hold of Churamungu's tongue, and ripped it from the toad's mouth. Churamungu released him and hopped backwards, his yellow eyes wider than ever.

" _Nisamehe!"_ Ghor wailed. _"Sikuwa na maana kwa ajili yenu kufa!"_

Churamungu stood his ground when Azmodan attacked, but the battle was already lost. Without his most dangerous weapon, the god was helpless against the superior physical capabilities of his foe. Azmodan tore him to pieces. When it was over, the battered body disintegrated into fine particles of sand.

"Well?" Azmodan said, a gravel note in his voice from the strangulation. "Is that how you defeated my brother Belial? Pathetic. This is getting dull. I was hoping for a challenge, but it seems that I am to be disappointed."

He spoke a single word in Incaentic, and black liquid began to seep from the stone at the edges of the chamber, forming a ring with the Lord of Sin at the center. Caesar, cut off from the door, was forced to move closer with the unconscious monk in his arms.

Baal understood Azmodan's scheme at once; he was trying to pen them like sheep so that he could slaughter them with minimal effort. They could hold him off for a little while, but eventually they would simply run out of room. The longer they waited, the worse their situation would become. Decisive action was needed … but what?

While he was racking his brains, Freja gathered her strength and jumped. It was an impressive spring, carrying her far higher than any normal human could manage. She landed on Azmodan's back and plunged her greatsword into his flesh, driving it all the way to the hilt.

Azmodan wobbled, and for a joyous second it seemed that his legs would give out underneath him. But instead he spun, his momentum flinging Freja hard against the wall. She dropped to the ground, stunned, mere inches away from the corrupt water. Ghor grabbed her hands and dragged her to a safer distance, her face twisted with the pain of walking.

Azmodan laughed then, the bloody froth bubbling from his mouth making the sound even more horrifying. Freja's sword was still embedded in his back, his right arm was useless and the skin at his neck hung in ribbons, but somehow he seemed stronger and more indestructible than when they had arrived. It was, Baal thought, as though the damage they had inflicted upon him had invigorated the demon lord rather than weakening him.

In desperation, he aimed Thaqib and fired every bolt in the clip at Azmodan's face. An arrow pierced one of the burning eyes, and several more bit deeply into the already wounded throat, but most were swallowed up by the fire in his mouth and burned to ash. Baal's arms dropped to his sides. His quivers were empty. There was nothing more he could do.

"Caesar!" he roared, his voice echoing around the temple. "Take Saiya and go! Warp her away from this place! It doesn't matter where you end up. Get as far away as you can. We're finished here. When she comes to, tell her I'm sorry, and that my love for her is the only thing that made my life worth living."

Without looking to see if the wizard was doing as he asked, Baal strode forward until he was standing directly before Azmodan. He looked up, meeting the Great Evil's remaining eye.

"The victory is yours," he said, "but know this: as long as humanity exists, we _will_ defy you. You can destroy our bodies, you can lay waste to our cities, but you cannot break our spirits."

Azmodan grinned, leaning down until his enormous face blotted out the whole of Baal's vision. "Oh, can't I?" he rumbled. "Tell me, demon hunter, do you know why Baalzibal came to your village? Do you know why your family died?"

An icy pall covered Baal's heart. "It was a random attack," he stammered. "Th-there was no reason!"

"Wrong." Azmodan's voice was triumphant. "They came because of _you_. You see, a rumor reached Tor'Baalos that a Nephalem child had been born in the town of Holy Rock, and no one hates the Nephalem more than he. He has sworn to wipe out every single one of you abominations. And so … he dispatched his son to deal with the problem."

"No," Baal groaned. "No no no! You're lying!"

"I must say," Azmodan continued, mercilessly, "the name you chose to take is really quite fitting. In a way, it _was_ you who killed your family. If you had never entered this world, they would still be alive."

Baal felt as though the ground had vanished beneath his feet and he was falling into a grey mist. Flashes of sight and sound haunted him. His mother's voice distorted as she called him inside for dinner. A flower dropped from the hand of a tiny girl, trampled in the dust. Screams and crying and the rush of flames devouring dry wood. The splash of bodies landing in a well, gasping, holding his head above water, Shadi's last words: _Father loved us both._

The mist cleared, and Baalzibal was standing in front of him, holding Saif's head in his clawed hands. He held it up, saying, "Do you see this worthless human? I asked him where you were and he wouldn't tell me, so he died."

Baal's hand clenched down so hard on Thaqib's handle that he could hear the wood cracking. A wave of loathing swept through him, more intense than any emotion he had felt in his life. He wanted to maim and kill the monster before him … no, to obliterate him, to leave no trace that he ever walked the earth. He raised his crossbow, not caring that it was empty, and pulled the trigger. But the mechanism was still firing, shadowy arrows flying forth in a stream that seemed to be directed by his will rather than his hand. And they were hurting the demon; made of air and hatred, they ignored armor and ripped through flesh, dissolving in the wounds. Under the relentless barrage, Baalzibal – his most despised enemy – crumpled to the ground.

Baal stopped firing. He was exultant, full of savage joy. The dead could sleep in peace now, for he had avenged them.

But the tattered form before him slowly mutated into something much larger, the stomach expanding, two legs fragmenting into six. It was a shape he recognized from a dream of the distant past … or was it the future?

"We were wrong," rasped the dying thing at his feet. "You are no Nephalem. You are … more demon … than we."

He put the tip of his crossbow to its head, pressing hard. Baalzibal or no, this filth must be exterminated. It was his purpose. But it continued to speak, and he paused, strangely compelled to listen.

"This war doesn't end with my death, boy. You think you have won, but you are sadly mistaken. I was the last piece … and now _he_ will come."

"I'll kill him too, then," the Hunter snarled. The demon laughed, and choked on its laughter. The sound irritated him. He said, "What's so funny?"

"He thought he was _so_ clever, imitating the angels, planting a seed in the world of mortals. But he isn't the only one who had that idea. When our seeds have sprouted and taken root, we'll see whose is strongest: his … or mine."

Baal had no idea what the demon was talking about, but he was getting tired of its pointless blather. He suspected it was trying to buy time, so he gave it no warning that its life was about to end. Its single, fiery eye went dark as the bolt passed through its skull. He stood still, panting with exertion. It was done.

Or perhaps not; there were footsteps behind him, the sound of breathing, a hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. His instincts kicked in and he spun and shot before he could stop himself.

But the face before him, eyes wide in shock, was Caesar's.

For a moment, nobody moved. Baal's vision throbbed, the blood rushing in his ears. Thaqib dropped from his nerveless fingers and clattered on the stone floor. He drew in a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so-"

The wizard dropped to his knees and slumped onto his side, where he lay still, his legs bent underneath him and one arm outstretched. Baal, frozen in horror at what he'd done, barely registered the scream that hit his ears as Saiya's. She had run forward and was kneeling by Caesar, shaking him and urgently calling his name. Ghor was coming over as well, saying, "Move aside, child, let me look at him."

 _I couldn't,_ Baal thought frantically. _I couldn't have killed him. He's faking it. Any moment now he's going to jump up and say it was all a big joke. It isn't real. I couldn't have killed him!_

But Caesar wasn't moving. Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming need to get away, and he ran blindly for the door, heedless of Saiya's pleas that he wait. As soon as he'd made it out of the temple, he bent double and vomited. The bile made his throat and eyes burn. He sat for a moment, hunched over, his hands balled into fists, letting the knowledge of his guilt ring through his mind like the toll of a funeral bell. Goaded by Azmodan, he had finally succumbed to the evil which coiled in his heart, and under its destructive influence, he had murdered his friend.

 _You wanted to_ , whispered Vera's voice in his mind. _You knew it was him standing behind you and you took your chance. You've wanted to kill him ever since he took Saiya away from you, admit it._

"No," he mumbled. "I forgave him."

 _No, you didn't. You may have_ thought _you did, you may have convinced yourself, but your resentment was still there, gnawing away at your guts: 'how could they do that to me?' And now the bastard is dead and she's all yours again, aren't you happy, Baal?_

"Go away!" he sobbed, clenching his teeth until he thought they would shatter. "I hate you, go away!"

"Well, that's nice," someone replied behind him. Gasping, he whipped around. Saiya was standing there with her arms crossed, looking annoyed. At the sight of her, his last spark of energy drifted away, leaving him hollow and dry.

"I know what you're going to say, Saiya," he sighed, "but it isn't true. It _was_ me who fired that bolt. There's no getting around it. I wasn't out of control, or anything like that. It wasn't some demon or spirit possessing my body that made me do it. It was _me_ , it was _my_ choice."

To his mild surprise, she nodded. Somehow, her agreement made him feel worse. He had expected her to argue for his innocence, but apparently she blamed him too. Well, it was only what he deserved.

"Yes," she said. "It was you, Baal. And that's why Caesar is still alive."

His gaze flew up to meet hers. "What? _How?_ I shot him in the heart, I know I did! I saw the arrow pass through him! How can he be alive?"

"Don't know," she replied, shrugging. "If I had to guess, I'd say that when you're in that … uh … state, the lethality of your arrows is determined by how much you despise the person that you're aiming at. In other words, it's your intention that kills, not your weapon. You fired at Caesar on reflex, but you didn't really want him to die … so he didn't. He's fine, by the way, though he says that you owe him a stiff drink and an abject apology."

Baal's head was spinning, and he wondered vaguely if he was going to pass out. Saiya evidently did too, if her expression was anything to go by. But as she took a step towards him, he noticed her bare feet and conspicuous lack of clothes (aside from the wizard's coat, which she still wore), and his wits came surging back to him.

"Forget about Caesar," he growled. "Are you okay? Did they … did they hurt you?"

She glanced away, biting her lip. "I don't really remember, to be honest. After I was carried away by that giant bird, I fainted and woke up stranded on a ledge on the mountainside. Gawahir showed up, and- oh!"

"What?" he demanded, worried.

"Gawahir! He's okay! Well, he's not really – he's pretty weak right now and Ghor says it'll be a while before he's able to fly again, but at least he's still with us. I thought you'd want to know."

"Thanks," Baal said. He knew that he'd rejoice later, but at present the only emotion he was capable of was a dull relief. Another life miraculously spared, another death removed from his conscience.

"Anyway," Saiya continued, "after he left, I waited for ages until you and Caesar appeared out of nowhere and took me away. Or at least, I _thought_ it was you and Caesar. It was actually two incubi. They wanted … well, never mind. But Azmodan made them stop, and ordered them to bring me before him. He said something about 'planting a seed of his own', which I didn't understand, and then he touched my stomach with one of his claws. Just a touch, nothing else, and it didn't even break the skin, but it was so painful that I couldn't keep upright. I can't remember anything else. I must have lost consciousness again. The next time I opened my eyes, you were there, fighting with Azmodan, and Caesar was trying to teleport me away. He said that you'd asked him to, but I wouldn't let him. So here we are."

"And your clothes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Saiya blushed. "That was the incubi's doing. As far as I know, Azmodan didn't do anything to me after that first touch."

Baal frowned. The very harmlessness of it was unsettling. He said, "Has Ghor examined you yet?"

"No," Saiya admitted. "She wanted to, but I had to find you first. I didn't want you to do something rash."

"Like throw myself into the lava?" He had meant it humorously, but she didn't smile.

"Like that, yes."

"I'm afraid that the thought never crossed my mind. If I was going to commit suicide, I think I would have done it a long time ago. Though I won't deny I felt pretty wretched."

He stood up carefully, testing his balance. Now that the adrenaline rush had passed, he was weak and dizzy and above all exhausted both physically and mentally. But he couldn't relax yet; they were still deep in hostile territory. Just because Azmodan was dead didn't mean that another enterprising demon wouldn't happen upon them and try to finish the job.

He looked at Saiya. She looked back, and then they were in each other's arms, clinging together and kissing as if the world was about to end. Baal held her face in his hands – her sweet, beautiful face that he'd thought he would never see again – and trembled at how close he had come to losing her.

"Never do this to me again," he whispered. "When I thought you were dead, my heart cracked right in two."

She was crying, tears running freely down her cheeks. "I knew you'd come for me," she said, "I knew it, but even so … I was so scared. When they brought me in front of him, all I could think was, _'Please let me live! I have to see Baal again!'_ "

"It's all over now, love," he said, putting an arm around her shoulder: partially to comfort her and partially because he wasn't sure he had the strength to stay on his feet without help. But as he said it, he recalled the last words Azmodan had spoken.

" _This war doesn't end with my death, boy. You think you have won, but you are sadly mistaken. I was the last piece … and now_ he _will come."_

Who was this mysterious adversary whose appearance the Lord of Sin had foretold? Another of the Great Evils? Baal could think of very few who could possibly be worse than Azmodan himself. Tor'Baalos was vanquished, presumed dead. Mephisto had been imprisoned by the Horadrim.

That left only Diablo.

"What are you thinking about?" Saiya asked.

"Uh, nothing. Shall we get back to the others?"

He had to lean on her more than he would have liked as they made their way up the temple steps. Ghor and Freja were grouped around the prone form of the wizard, and glanced up at they approached.

"He is going to be alright," Ghor announced.

"Oh, thank the gods!" exclaimed Saiya. Baal gave her an incredulous look.

"I thought you knew that already."

"Well …" she hedged.

"You lied to me? About _that_? What the hell would you have said if he _wasn't_ okay?"

"I knew he would be," she said, and her eyes gleamed with conviction.

"How?"

"Because I know _you_ , Baal, better than you think I do. You wouldn't kill your friend, no matter how angry you were. And look! I was right!"

"Ugh. Smartass." He let go of her and took a few stumbling steps forward until he was standing next to Freja at Caesar's feet. The wizard's eyes were open, though he appeared to be rather dazed.

"Hey," Baal said. "How do you feel?"

"Surprisingly, not too bad," Caesar mumbled. "Very tired, though."

The Hunter nodded. "I'm, uh … I'm really sorry that I shot you."

"S'okay, it happens. Tell you what, you buy drinks for the next month, and I'll call us even."

Baal gave Saiya a suspicious glare, but she only shrugged and mouthed, _"Told you."_

"Fair enough," he said. "How are you holding up, Freja?"

"I am fine," said the Barbarian, stoically. "I have thick bones."

"You were amazing. All of you were. I can't believe that we actually managed to do it without losing anyone."

"I wish I could have taken part," Saiya said. "I would have liked to show that asshole what I think of him."

"What now?" Ghor asked. "We cannot stay here."

"If we could get a message back to the Keep, we could call for help," Caesar suggested. "Perhaps your bird could carry one, Baal?"

Gawahir, who was sitting meekly on Ghor's shoulder, dropped his head to his chest and closed his eyes.

"I don't think he's up to it," Baal said. "Ghor, you have flying things among your summons, don't you? One of them could carry a message. Or are you out of mana after calling on the toad?"

Caesar frowned up at his friend. "How did you manage to do that, anyway?"

"I was hoping you would not ask," Ghor sighed. "In dire circumstances, there is an alternative sacrifice that can be made, should a _sangoma_ have the will to carry it out. I did not have enough mana to satisfy Churamungu, so I offered him my life instead, if he should be victorious."

The wizard reached up and grasped her hand, whispering, "I'm glad he wasn't, then."

At that moment, a portal opened in the air and Tyrael emerged from it, with Adria and Leah behind him, carrying the Black Soulstone. The witch ignored them and went at once to Azmodan's corpse, motioning impatiently for her daughter to join her.

Tyrael said, "My friends, I am glad to see you all alive and well. I feared the worst. Why did you not tell me of your plans? I would have aided you."

"We were in a hurry," Baal replied, "and couldn't take the time to find you. Does the Keep still stand?"

"It does. Most of Azmodan's army has fled back to the Burning Hells. Captain Haile had taken charge and is organizing squads to exterminate the remaining demons."

"And Lyndon? Did he make it?"

Tyrael smiled. "He did … and he returned with another. A lone Templar survived the massacre."

"Kormac!" Saiya cried. "Is he really alive? Ytar be praised!"

"I am finished," Adria announced. "Azmodan's essence is contained."

"Good," said Baal. "Let's get the fuck out of here. I'm sick of this place."

Caesar made no complaint as Tyrael helped him to his feet and guided him through the portal, with Ghor following close after. Leah went through next, the Soulstone heavy in her arms. Her face had a strange empty look to it, like a blank sheet of paper, but Baal didn't have the energy to puzzle over it.

"Coming?" he asked Freja. The Barbarian hesitated, looking uncharacteristically shy.

"I am welcome?" she said.

"Anyone who has a problem with you can take it up with me," he answered. Then, grasping Saiya's hand, he stepped into the portal.

* * *

 _* Baal said, "Noble bird, you should have been a hawk."_

 _*Ghor said, "Forgive me! I did not mean for you to die!"_


	15. 15 - Adria's Betrayal

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Darling, remember, when you come to me_  
 _I'm the pretender, I'm not what I'm supposed to be_  
 _But who could know if I'm a traitor_

 _Queen of fakes and imitators_  
 _Time's the revelator."_  
 _\- Gillian Welch_  
 _"Time (the Revelator)"_

* * *

 **So. This chapter is HUGE, plot-wise, and it was very difficult to write. I would love to have feedback for this one especially, so I can know how I did. You all are wonderful (can't say it too many times!) and thanks so much for reading! On a side note, this is NOT the end of Part III - this section of the story will continue the adventure on into Heaven and the battle with Diablo.**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Adria's Betrayal

There was a euphoric, celebratory feel to the air in Bastion's Keep, contrasting sharply with the death and destruction that surrounded the fortress. Like a dying man miraculously cured, or a criminal whose execution has been remitted, soldiers and refugees alike laughed and danced, intoxicated with the pure joy of being alive. The wounded were not neglected and the fallen did not go unmourned, but the prevailing atmosphere was one of triumph and exultation.

The five Nephalem, naturally, were treated as heroes for their part in the conflict. None of them was particularly pleased with the role. Saiya, uncomfortable with accepting praise for something that she hadn't done, repeatedly denied that she had helped to kill Azmodan. Baal and Caesar were too exhausted to care, and Ghor disliked being the center of attention. Freja did her best to be gracious, but the long centuries of discord between her people and the men of the Keep (coupled with the ill treatment she had personally suffered from) made the situation somewhat awkward.

The result was that they each made their escape as soon as possible, slipping away to the privacy of their own rooms, or wandering out onto the ravaged walls in search of solitude. Having eaten and seen the military healer to have her cuts treated, Saiya's immediate priority was a shower, followed by a long sleep.

"Meet you back at the tower?" she asked Baal. "Or would you like to come with me."

He had barely released her hand for a single moment since they had returned, but now he said, "You go ahead. Don't wait up for me, I may be a while."

The young monk frowned, scrutinizing her lover's face. She sensed that there was something wrong with him, beyond the emotional strain of their recent battle, but now was not the time for a confrontation. With a kiss and a murmured, "See you later then,", she departed.

As soon as Saiya was out of sight, Baal made a beeline for the main gate and followed a set of familiar footprints through the newly fallen snow. They led up the stairs to a small lookout post, half-demolished. Caesar was leaning against the flagpole, staring moodily out across the plains. Then, with a wave of his hand, he conjured an image out of ice crystals in the air before him.

Baal's lips tightened involuntarily. It was Saiya's visage that the wizard had made, a carefree smile gracing her lips, her eyes half-closed as though she was peering into the sun. He stared at his creation for a few moments and then, abruptly, clenched his fist. The picture shattered.

"I know you're there, Baal," he said without turning around. "Have you come to order me away from 'your woman' again?"

"No," Baal answered. "Quite the contrary, actually."

That got a reaction, albeit a puzzled one. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Look," said Baal, flatly. "I'm not blind. It's very plain that you're in love with her, and I have reason to believe that it's not unrequited."

"You, ah … _what_?"

"So," he continued, ruthlessly determined to say his piece, "if the two of you are genuinely happy together, I won't stand in your way."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Baal?" Caesar demanded. "Have you lost your mind?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is this some misplaced guilt for attacking me earlier?"

"No," Baal snapped. "I'm trying to do the right thing here, damn it."

"Have you talked to Saiya about this?"

He hadn't been able to bring himself to do so, but didn't want to admit it. Instead, he shrugged, saying, "She needed to rest."

"And so do you," said Caesar. "You look like hell. I'm not sure who put this absurd notion into your head, but I can promise you that my relationship with Saiya will remain strictly platonic – at _her_ request, I might add. Whatever idea you have about her feelings for me, you're wrong. She sees me as a good friend, nothing more."

Baal snorted. "Oh really? Her own words say otherwise. _'I want you too, Caesar. I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to realize it'._ "

Caesar's expression was one of complete astonishment. "What the … how did you know that she said that to me?"

"Cydaea informed me. I don't really think that it had the effect she intended."

"Gods," the wizard groaned, running a hand over his beet-red face. "I can't tell you how sorry I am, Baal. I should never have allowed it to happen."

"No, you shouldn't have," Baal agreed, "but it's over and done. My concern now is only for the future, and which of us will be the best partner for Saiya."

With a frown, Caesar said, "Don't you think that _she_ should be the one making that decision? It's her life, after all. It seems a bit inappropriate for us to be talking about her like she's a calf up for sale at the market."

"Don't you get it?" Baal growled. "I don't want her to stay with me out of a sense of obligation! If she loves _you_ -"

"Has she said so?"

"No, of course not, and I don't expect that she ever would. She's far too kind. But all the same …"

Caesar shook his head. There was a glimmer in his eye that Baal would have called affection, if he hadn't known better. "You're an idiot," the wizard said. "I should have thought that your Hunter training included the advice 'never listen to demons'."

Baal stiffened. "You yourself admitted that what she showed me was true."

"Yes," said Caesar, "but it was only half the story. Haven't you ever wondered what made us stop?"

"I've tried not to think about it, honestly," Baal replied, unable to prevent a chill from seeping into his tone. Caesar, noticing, softened his sarcastic amusement.

"Of course. No doubt Saiya was trying to spare my ego. Well, it's a bit too late for that, so I'll just get it over with. The reason things never took off between us is that is that she, uh … addressed me by the wrong name."

All Baal could get out was, "Oh."

"I'm sure you can guess whose."

Baal, torn between sympathy and delight, successfully mastered the latter and managed to school his face into an expression of the former. "Damn," he said. "I'm … sorry?"

"Don't be!" the other man exclaimed. "I was glad. Not about _that_ , exactly, but in a way it was a relief. It didn't feel right. Trust me when I say that it wasn't meant to be." He paused for a moment, then said, "I do appreciate what you were trying to do, though. It was very honorable of you."

"No," Baal sighed. "My intentions may have been good, but the fact is that if she had chosen you, I would never have forgiven you for it."

"I'm surprised that you forgave me at all! I'm not sure I deserve it."

Baal closed his eyes. "Maybe so. But … your friendship is important to me, Caesar, and if you ever tell anyone I said so, I will not hesitate to murder you."

"We aren't friends," Caesar said firmly. "We're brothers. And I guess that means that even when we fuck up, we still care about each other."

"Okay, stop, _please_ ," the Hunter begged. "This is getting embarrassing. Let's just agree never to speak about this again. Yeah?"

"Fine by me," Caesar retorted, holding out his hand. Baal shook it awkwardly, a vivid blush heating up his cheeks. He was incredibly grateful that no one was around to see him acting like such a sentimental fool.

"Ooh, very touching," said a voice behind them. "What d'you reckon, Freja? A summer wedding?"

Baal spun around, glaring daggers. Lyndon was standing near the top of the stairs, the Barbarian by his side. The pair wore identical grins of the type commonly referred to as 'shit-eating'.

"Mage doesn't like heat," said Freja. "I think winter."

"Ah yes, the sooner the better, no doubt."

"Is there something you want?" Caesar snapped. "Or did you come here to make a nuisance of yourself, as usual."

"I _was_ out for a pleasant stroll with my lady here," snickered Lyndon, "when I happened to hear what sounded like a tryst atop the ramparts. So, being of a naturally inquisitive disposition, I thought I'd see what it was all about. You too are quite something, I must say."

"Ignore him," Baal advised. "He enjoys being a dick."

"Quite," muttered Caesar. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go lie down. I can feel a headache coming on."

"I am leaving," Freja announced, before the wizard could depart.

"She means 'from the Keep', not 'from this particular spot on the walls'," Lyndon added helpfully.

"Right now?" Baal asked. "But it'll be dark soon. Why not wait until tomorrow morning?"

"I wait too long already," she said. "You all are kind, but this place is not home for me. I have … what is it again? Important things to do. So I come to find you, say goodbye."

"Goodbye, Freja," said Baal. "It was an honor to fight with you."

"I feel same," she replied, inclining her head. "Come north some time for visit, we will drink all night and tell stories of old times."

"I'd enjoy that."

"Good." She turned to Caesar. "Mage take care, okay? And look after little woman too. I hope child is born big and strong."

There was a long silence. Caesar put his hands over his face. Baal, after skewering the wizard with a hard stare, said, "I think you meant to address that comment to _me_."

"I did?" Freja asked. "But mage tell me he is father. Is that not so?"

A strangled sound escaped from Caesar's throat. "No, it isn't!" he choked out. "I was afraid you would separate us, so I lied. I never imagined it would come back to haunt me."

"I beg pardon," said Freja, turning to Baal with surprising aplomb. "Then I wish _you_ joy of being father." A shadow passed over her lovely face. "It is not easy, to raise child. I marry husband six years ago, when his son already ten, had just lost mother. I was too strict with boy, never kind or … _láskavy,_ Lyndon?"

"Gentle," Lyndon supplied.

"Thank you. And boy hate me for it. I didn't want that. Now he is dead, I cannot take back harsh things I say, or times I hit him. I thought I was doing right, as parent should do to raise strong warrior. Not so."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, darlin'," said Lyndon, squeezing her shoulder. "You were a very young woman when you married Halvar – only twenty-two. All you knew about parenting was what your own had taught you. I'm sure you did your best."

"I did not," Freja answered, "but I will honor Ingemar's memory forever. Of all deaths, his I regret most."

"His spirit looks down on you from the Sacred Mountain and smiles," said Lyndon.

The Barbarian's eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Hastily, she said, "I go now. Goodbye, Caesar. Goodbye, Ball. May ancestors protect you always." Spinning on her heel, she strode away towards the causeway ramp, a proud figure with straight back and broad shoulders, the setting sun kindling her red hair to flame. Lyndon went with her.

"How come she got _your_ name right?" Baal complained when they were out of earshot. "Yours is much harder to pronounce that mine."

Caesar shrugged. "I don't know, I rather like Ball. It suits you."

He laughed. "Oh no, you don't want to do that. I can – and will – think of the worst nickname possible, and use it constantly in front of everyone you respect."

"I doubt that you could think of anything worse than what they called me at the Thaumaturgy Guild," replied Caesar, smirking.

Baal raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Tell me and we'll find out."

"I'll tell you if you'll tell me your real name," Caesar countered.

Caught completely off guard, Baal could only stare. He wasn't sure why the sudden query, thinly disguised as a offhand remark, made him so uncomfortable, but it did. He toyed with the idea of lying, then decided to tell the truth instead.

"I'd rather not."

Caesar took his refusal philosophically, merely shrugging and saying, "As you like. Shall we head in?"

They walked side by side in silence that was companionable, at least, even if it was a bit strained. The wizard looked contemplative, as if he was deep in thought, and Baal was unnerved, both by the mention of his birth name, and by his reaction to it. He felt vaguely offended, which was ridiculous. It wasn't as though Caesar had insulted him.

Entering the commons, they spotted Kormac drinking with a group of soldiers. From the volume of the ribald songs they were singing, they'd had quite a lot already. The Templar noticed them and waved them over.

"Come and have a pint with me, my Brothers!" he called out. "To our glorious victory, to beautiful women near and far, to living another damn day!"

"I could drink to that," said Caesar. "Coming, Baal?"

"No," he replied, "I think it's about time I retired for the night."

Slowly, he climbed the stairs to the tower room he had been allotted, feeling like a very old man. The bones of his wounded leg ached, and the spiderlings' stingers had left nasty welts on his knee and shoulder. The healer had given him a cream to ease the swelling; he disrobed and daubed it on, lightly bandaging the afflicted areas to prevent the ointment from rubbing off while he slept.

Saiya was asleep in one of the cots, the blanket pulled up over her face so that only her thatch of white-blonde hair was visible. A half-smile tugged at his lips as he gazed at her. To have her back at his side, safe and sound and entirely his again, was more than he could have hoped for. It seemed almost like a dream.

After banking up the fire to ensure that the chamber stayed warm, he slipped into bed beside her. Immediately, she turned over and threw an arm across his chest, mumbling drowsily into his shoulder. He craned his neck to kiss the tip of her nose. She blinked several times, clearly only half-awake.

"You're here," she said. "Is it morning yet?"

He chuckled. "No, love. We've got the whole night ahead of us." After a pause, he added, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay, I don't mind. Did you finish your business?"

"Yes." He thought of Caesar, and the wistful expression on his face as he said, _"Trust me when I say it wasn't meant to be."_ He wondered how Saiya would feel if she knew what he'd tried to do. Hopefully, she would appreciate the intention behind it, though he wasn't sure. In hindsight, it seemed like a downright stupid thing to do – what in Hell would he have done if Caesar had said, _'Great, thanks, I'll just run off with her, then'_?

"Are you alright?" she asked softly. "You've seemed … different … since the fight with Azmodan."

"I'm fine," he lied. "Different how?"

"Like a turtle without its shell. Ugh, that's terrible description, but I'm tired. It's just … as long as I've known you, you've always hidden behind this impenetrable shield, and right after the battle, it was like that shield had cracked apart somehow. You were so _raw_ and … and vulnerable. I felt like I was seeing you for the first time. But now it's back again, and I can't tell at all what you're thinking. Oh, I'm not making much sense, am I?"

"No," he whispered, "you're right. Azmodan told me things that … well, I lost it. Plain and simple. I've never been so immersed in my hatred before. I had some kind of vision of the day my family died. I saw Baalzibal and killed him, and when I snapped out of it, Azmodan was the one who had died. But it wasn't _enough_. The thirst he woke in me wasn't quenched by his death. I can feel it now, seething in my stomach. I'm not myself. Saiya, I'm afraid … afraid that I'll break again, and next time there will be no coming back."

She placed her palm on his cheek. "I won't let you," she said. "I'll keep you in one piece."

Gazing into her eyes, bright with adoration, he felt a sudden need to take her in his arms and make love to her. With an effort, he conquered it. Neither of them was in a fit state for sex, and he would hate to make her feel uncomfortable by asking.

But it seemed that either he was too obvious, or she was a more adept mind-reader than he'd thought, for her hand slid down, gliding along his bare chest and stomach and taking hold of him. He was already hard, and he groaned as her hand closed around his cock.

"We don't have to do this," he mumbled. "You've been through a lot, and-"

"Shush," Saiya replied authoritatively. Before he could say another word, she threw a leg over him and levered herself up and on top of him. He had not realized before, but she, too, was sleeping without clothes on.

"I want this," she said as she maneuvered herself into the proper position, an adorable frown on concentration on her face. "I want _you_ , Baal."

Then he was inside her, sheathed in warmth. He made no more protestations.

There was nothing frenzied or wild about their coupling. Saiya rocked her hips with movements as gentle and rhythmic as waves lapping the shores of a lake, easing them both to completion. Her eyes stayed locked with his the whole while, until he felt that he was falling off the face of the earth, into the boundless depths of the sky. For those few minutes, there was nothing else in the world but her.

She collapsed on his chest with a sigh and lay there trembling while he stroked along the channel of her spine. But when she raised herself back up again, rather than the blissful smile he'd expected, she wore a small frown.

"Is our sex satisfying enough for you?" she inquired.

Baal stared at her, thrown off by the sudden change in mood. Before he could stop himself, he quipped, "Do I look dissatisfied to you?"

"Well, no," Saiya admitted. "But then again, I have nothing else to compare you to."

He opened his mouth, then made a conscious decision to refrain from mentioning the mage. From the wariness that crept into her expression, he suspected that Saiya did the same.

"Are you feeling insecure?" he asked instead. She didn't reply immediately, and he added, "You really shouldn't, dearest. You're amazing. When I'm with you, it … I feel so … at peace."

Her frown deepened. "But isn't sex supposed to be exciting, not peaceful?"

"It _is_ exciting!" Baal protested, feeling very confused. Why was it so hard to compliment women? They seemed to have a way of twisting everything you said around to mean the opposite of what you intended. But Saiya was still gazing at him with a skeptical eyebrow raised, so he said, "If it wasn't, I wouldn't have come. It's not like I could fake it. You _know_ I enjoy what we do."

Saiya lowered her eyes, and her tone dropped so much that he struggled to catch her next words. "It must be rather boring compared to what you usually have."

 _She means Vera_ , he realized, with a sick jolt. He propped himself up on his elbows, forcing her to slide off of him. "Where did all this come from? You never worried about pleasing me before."

Her cheeks flushed bright red, visible even in the near darkness. "I, uh … I had a conversation with Caesar back when I thought that you'd slept with _her_. I was trying to understand why you might have done that, and he said that not all relationships – um, between lovers, I mean – that they're not all the same. Well, specifically he explained what masochism is. He thought that … that you might be one. And it made sense, sort of, that that's why you'd be so attracted to _her_ , and I just wondered if maybe you wanted me to be more like-"

"No!" It burst out without his permission, a knee-jerk response to the slightest thought of his beloved Saiya behaving anything like that vicious and uncaring woman. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he said, "I appreciate the thought, _nuur il'-en_ , honestly, but I would never want that. You're perfect the way you are. Besides, Vera got enjoyment out of hurting me, and I doubt that you're capable of that."

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth turning down in what might have been disgust. "I can't say I understand either side of it, really, but I'd like to."

And here he'd thought she couldn't possibly surprise him any further. "You … would?"

"Yes," Saiya said earnestly. "If it's a part of you, then I should at least know _something_ about it."

"What would you like to know?"

"How long have you been doing it?" she asked at once.

"I've only _done_ it with … her." He couldn't bring himself to say Vera's name while Saiya lay naked beside him. "But I've been turned on by pain since I first started thinking about sex."

"So any time you feel pain …?"

Baal shook his head. "No, not if it's bad enough. I prefer mild stimulants like whipping or biting. And only before I climax, not afterwards. Ve- … _she_ always wanted to push things further than I was comfortable with, and I ended up letting her because she'd do it anyway. That time she stabbed me in the leg, it was punishment for not allowing her to do something else earlier."

"But you still went back to her." Saiya's tone was impossible to read.

He sighed. "Yes, I did. I wasn't strong enough to stop. She filled a need that I had. But like I said, you don't need to change yourself. I get just as much pleasure from you, making love the normal way – more, in fact, because I know that you actually care for me."

"I do," she said. "More than anything. But if you ever change your mind, will you let me know? I might not be any good at it, but if it was something that you wanted, I'd be willing to try."

Looking at her, he struggled with a wave of emotion that threatened to sweep him away. For the first time, it really sank in: _this is what it means to love someone. To prioritize their needs and desires above your own._

"I'll bear that in mind," he murmured, pulling her back down and putting an arm around her so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder.

A long silence drifted lazily by before she abruptly said, "What happens now?"

Baal frowned. In truth, he had not gotten past the present in his own plans. "Well," he said, "I suppose that we're free to go where we will."

"Free?" For some reason, she sounded incredibly said. "I doubt we'll ever be truly free, not as long as you serve the Hunters."

Silently, he cursed himself for shattering the tranquil peace between them. "Of course I'll have to return to the Council – sooner rather than later, to be honest – but I'll take the time to escort you to Ivgorod first, if that's where you still wish to go. And I swear to you that after I make my report, I'll return and stay with you until the baby comes."

Her whole face lit up. "You really mean that? But what if they send you on another mission?"

"Then I'll tell them to fuck themselves!" he replied emphatically. "Do you think that I'd let a bunch of crusty old men prevent me from being present at the birth of my own child?"

"Oh, Baal!" She kissed him twice, pulled back to grin at him, then darted in for a third. "You've made me indescribably happy!"

"If that's all it takes," he answered, "then you're far too easy to please, _nuur il-'en._ " But he was grinning as well, and as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, he felt the shadow of his darker side detach itself from his heart, and flit away into the night.

* * *

"A straight flush, gentlemen – and lady," Lyndon declared, throwing his cards on the table with a certain amount of glee. "I believe that makes it my game."

There was grumbling all round, but everyone was too tired or too drunk to make any serious protest. Their game had dragged on into the wee hours of the night, with people dropping out as they lost either their money or their senses, and fresh players joining. Caesar had left long ago to seek his bed, and Kormac was currently draped across his chair, snoring heavily.

As Lyndon raked his winnings into a leather bag, the sole female occupant of the room came up behind him and leaned her elbows his shoulders, her breasts brushing the back of his head. He turned to press his cheek against them, enjoying the mixture of rough linen and smooth skin. Her name, he had discovered, was Beatrice, and she had been making eyes at him across the table for a while.

"I know a place where no one will find us," she whispered, honey-smooth, into his ear.

"Do you now?" he replied, winking. "I'm intrigued! Lead on, little darlin'."

"This way," she murmured, taking his hand to pull him up from his chair. But as she did so, he caught sight of a slim figure, only half-visible in the darkness of the outer hall, slipping as silently as a ghost through the arched doorway that led to the main tower. It was Leah, and there was something strange about the way she was moving, like a sleep-walker. An ominous premonition made the hairs rise on the back of Lyndon's neck.

"Come _on_ ," Beatrice wheedled, tugging at his hand. "What's the matter?"

Lyndon glanced down at her, soft and inviting, and then back at the shadowy door where Leah had vanished. "Hang on, sweetheart," he said. "I've just got to check on something. Wait right here for me, okay? I'll only be a second."

Picking up the crossbow that leaned against his chair in case of any trouble during the game, he left Beatrice pouting in the commons and followed after Leah.

* * *

Saiya's dreams were consumed by fire. She stumbled over rocky ground that seared her feet like the floor in the Butcher's arena, and behind her came a great beast with burning breath. If she stopped for even a moment, it would snap her up and devour her whole. Eventually she could no further and fell to all fours, but even then she crawled, desperate to escape her fate. And all the while heavy footfalls at her back made the ground tremble.

At some point, the dream deteriorated into a series of disconnected images, which passed one after the other in front of her eyes. Adria turned into a snake and slithered away, hissing, into the grass. Tyrael was trapped within the confines of a crystal prison. Leah climbed a spiraling staircase with a bundle in her arms wrapped in black cloth. A pentacle drawn onto stone in red ink or blood, with a body lying nearby.

And a voice, ancient and foul, penetrating the very deepest crevices of her mind: _"I have planted a seed in the mortal world; a seed which will grow and thrive undetected until it becomes strong enough to destroy all in its path."_

She came awake with a sharp gasp, jerking upright into a sitting position. Baal stirred at her side, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the dying embers in the fireplace.

"What is it?" he rasped, voice gravelly from sleep.

Saiya pressed a hand over her rapidly beating heart. "Something … something bad," she whispered. "Danger. We're all in terrible danger."

"It was only a dream," he said, placing a steady palm at the small of her back. "Lie down, my little love, and let me hold you 'til it goes away."

She wanted to, very badly, but all her instincts were screaming that whatever threat had roused her could not be ignored. She shook her head wildly. "No, not a dream. There's something happening, right now."

He cocked his head, apparently listening for screams or the sound of fighting. After a moment of heavy silence, he said, "Tell you what, Saiya. Why don't you stay here and try to go back to sleep. I'll see what's going on."

Rising, he pulled on his pants, shirt, and boots, and strode off down the stairs, as elegant as a cat. Saiya flopped back against her pillow with a sigh of relief that quickly morphed into a disappointed groan. Baal's crossbows were still leaning up against his pack, where he had placed them before going to bed.

He hadn't taken her seriously. She could imagine him strolling casually into the commons, requisitioning a bowl of oatmeal, yawning as he described to Caesar how the pregnancy must be affecting her mind because she was already starting to succumb to paranoid delusions. And meanwhile a nebulous web spread over the entire Keep, growing until they were all snared tight in its invisible strands.

Grumbling about stupid, arrogant males, Saiya got up and threw on her Iron Wolf robe, which she had reclaimed from the armory the previous day. She grabbed the smaller of the two bows – Thaqib, she thought it was called – and her brass knuckles for good measure, and padded softly after her errant lover. The worn stone of the steps was cold against the soles of her feet.

The commons were nearly deserted, save for the bulky shape of Kormac passed out in a chair, and a rather annoyed-looking young woman to whom Baal was currently speaking. As Saiya approached, the Hunter asked, "And how long ago was this?"

"Must be fifteen minutes by now," the girl replied, sulkily. "If he thinks he's getting any from me now, he's sorely mistaken, I can tell you that!"

"Who?" Saiya interjected, though she had a good suspicion. It was confirmed as the girl said, "Lyndon," with a disdainful toss of her head.

"It would seem," said Baal, "that our roguish friend was up late playing cards, and had made arrangement to, uh … pass some time with Beatrice here, when he suddenly announced that he had to 'check on something', and abruptly vanished. He has not returned."

Unease needled the back of Saiya's mind. Sharing a glance with Baal, she saw the same apprehension reflected back at her. Before they could discuss a course of action, however, two pairs of running feet shattered the quiet, and Tyrael burst into the room, with Ghor immediately behind him. The angel's face was stricken.

"We are betrayed!" he cried. "Adria has taken the Soulstone, and Leah with her!"

"Where?" Baal demanded. At Tyrael's uncertain pause, he frowned and turned to Beatrice, grabbing her arms. "Which way did Lyndon go?"

Mute and frightened, she pointed. The Hunter was off at once, stopping only to grab his crossbow out of Saiya's grip. The others sprinted after him, Saiya among them. Dread boiled hot in the pit of her stomach as she took the stairs three at a time, her dream stark in her memory.

The four of them burst out onto the roof of the tower, only to stop dead in their tracks, fixed with horror at the sight before them. The soldiers on guard duty had been massacred, their bodies strewn about like broken dolls, their blood smeared across the stones in an elaborate symbol. At the center of this resting the Black Soulstone, with Leah standing before it in a trance. Adria stood nearby, staff raised toward the inky sky. They had evidently interrupted a ritual of some kind.

But Saiya's eye was drawn to only one thing, a single figure in the midst of the carnage. Lyndon lay huddled over himself, his bow in one hand and the other clutched to his stomach. With a cry, she tried to push through the group to get to him, but Ghor caught her and held her back.

"You sorry fools," Adria sneered, "you should have left well enough alone."

"Why?" Tyrael's voice was anguished. "Your own daughter, Adria … does Leah mean nothing to you?"

The witch threw her head back and laughed, a chilling, heartless sound. "Wrong as usual, Tyrael. Leah is _everything_ to me! For the last twenty years, all my energy has been focused on preparing for this moment. You were so blind not to have seen it coming. Deckard suspected the truth, but I marvel that you never even guessed at it."

"Twenty years," Baal muttered. "The Darkening of Tristram. You were there … Leah told us so."

"Correct," said Adria, smirking. "And now, at the hour of my greatest achievement, it no longer matters who knows the real reason. I suppose you have earned some reward for your faithful service. So know this: I was drawn to Tristram by a power beyond reckoning, and I found that power, and worshipped in secret what others thought to be dead. No one knew, not even Maghda, that the same man who defeated Diablo absorbed his essence and in so doing was corrupted beyond redemption."

"The Dark Wanderer," Tyrael said.

"I pledged myself to his service," Adria continued, pacing back and forth in front of them. "I gave him everything – soul, mind … and body."

Saiya heard a gasp and realized it had come from her own mouth. "Leah's father-"

"Was Diablo himself," finished Adria.

"What are you going to do to her?" Baal snarled.

Adria spread her hands wide. "She was born for a single purpose, and it is time that she fulfilled it. She is to be the vessel for Diablo's rebirth."

"No!" roared Tyrael. Drawing his sword from its sheath, he started forward, only to encounter a magical barrier, previously unseen, that blocked their path. With a nasty smile, Adria turned to her daughter.

"Now," she said, "close your eyes, my dearest. It will be over soon."

Pointing her staff at the Soulstone, she began to utter a spell in the demonic language, the evil words parting from her tongue like flesh ripping. Leah screamed and writhed, tearing at her hair and face. Appalled, Saiya smashed her fist against Adria's shield, but it refused to give. They were forced to watch as the bloodied lines on the stone glowed and stretched, crawling up Leah's legs.

With a snap, her back arched far beyond what a normal human spine was capable of. Tyrael released a sound halfway between a moan and a sob and sank to his knees, dropping El'druin with a harsh clatter. No one else dared to move, not even Adria, who stood with her avid gaze fixed on her ruined child.

"…Leah?" Baal asked, cautiously. "Leah, can you hear me?"

She lifted a hand, examining it as though it was something strange and marvelous. Ignoring them, she spoke to Adria, but her voice was unnatural and simply _wrong_. Saiya couldn't suppress a shudder at the sound of it.

"Well done, Adria," she said. "You have surpassed my expectations of you. I see now that my trust in you was well-placed."

There were tears on Adria's marble cheeks, glittering in the starlight. "Thank you, my Lord Diablo," she breathed. "I am yours to my final breath."

"You may go now," commanded the demon that used to be Leah. "I have no need of you for what comes next."

Adria's face twisted in what looked like grief, but she bowed her head in acquiescence. Then, before any of them could stop her, she opened a portal with a wave of her hand and was gone. Her barrier vanished with her, leaving them standing with nothing but open air between them and the Lord of Terror.

"Leah," Baal repeated, a vain and desperate hope lighting his face, "if there is any of you still in there, listen to me! Come back to us!"

"Your words mean nothing to me, mortal," said Diablo. "This body is mine now."

"Baal," Saiya whispered urgently, "we have to kill her … _it_ … right now. You know that, don't you?"

Grimly, he nodded and raised Thaqib. "I'm sorry, Leah," he murmured. "I couldn't save you."

Pulling the trigger, he sent a stream of bolts towards the slender figure framed against the lightening sky. But Diablo merely held out a hand, palm outstretched towards them, and the arrows' trajectory bent away.

"I have no interest in your childish dreams of revenge," he growled. "At last, the High Heavens are opened to me. Watch my ascension, little humans, and remain earthbound."

Plunging both hands to the elbow into thin air, the demon made a gesture as though trying to tear apart the very fabric of the world. A golden rift appeared, leaking light, a bleeding wound in the sky. Diablo stepped through it, and it sealed behind him.

"Spirits, forgive us," said Ghor, hollow and forlorn. "What have we allowed to happen?"

Diablo's oppressive aura had pinned them in place; now that he was gone, Saiya felt as though she had been freed from a prison. She darted forward and knelt beside Lyndon, rolling him carefully over. He was still alive, but barely, his eyes dull and glazed, his face bloodless. Saiya pried his hand away from his stomach to find the wound, a hole with blackened edges were Adria's bolt had pierced him.

"Hey, Saiya," he said, the words slurring together.

"H-hey," she mumbled, trying to smile through the tears that blurred her vision. "How do you feel?"

Lyndon attempted a wry chuckle, but it turned into a groan of pain as his body shook. "Not so good, I'm afraid. I think this is it for me."

"Don't talk like that!" she protested. "We're gonna get you all patched up, you'll see."

"No, I don' think so, darlin' … I'm just glad that I'm with … friends. Always figured I'd die alone, y'know."

"Ghor, _help me!"_ Saiya pleaded, her voice breaking. "Help me save him!"

"I am sorry," the _sangoma_ said quietly at her shoulder. "Lyndon is right, there is nothing that can be done." Crouching down, she took Lyndon's free hand in her own, squeezing. "Be at peace, _rafiki._ The spirits wait to carry you upwards."

"No!" Saiya ground out. "No, I won't accept this, _no!"_ Shutting her eyes tightly, she scoured the scattered corners of her brain for the mantra that had healed Baal, had returned him from beyond the void whole and undamaged. But the sacred words would not align for her; shock and stress had stolen her ability to think straight. She tried fruitlessly for several minutes, growing more and more frustrated with each failure, before Lyndon hushed her with a palm, rough and trembling, against her cheek.

"Thank you," he said. "I'm lucky to have met …" The rest of his sentence was lost in a wracking cough that brought blood to his lips. Ghor propped his head in her lap so that he could be more comfortable. His eyes were beginning to drift closed, his breathing shallow and weak.

"M'sorry," he murmured. "Tried to stop her. Pretty stupid, huh?"

"It was brave," Saiya said. "This was our fault, not yours. We should have turned her away from the beginning."

"Maybe … but then … who knows?" Speaking was becoming difficult for him, but he struggled on nonetheless. "Listen, Saiya … about my brother …"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," she promised. "You have my word, I'll make sure that he's freed."

A beautiful peace came over his features. "It's not so bad, then," he said. His hand dropped away from Saiya's face, landing with a soft thump on the soiled stone. She knew then that he was gone. A sob built up in her chest, breaking free in a wail of sorrow and rage. Somewhere behind her, she heard a voice that she distantly identified as Caesar's, and Baal responding to him, but nothing seemed important except for the man in front of her, and the stillness where before motion had been so vital, the silence where there had always been a ready joke or sarcastic quip. All that was _Lyndon –_ the humor, the charm, the kind and loyal heart hidden beneath layers of bitter armor – had vanished, leaving behind only a shell with a resemblance to a person she had loved.

Hands on her shoulders, lifting her deftly up until she was enveloped in a strong embrace. Baal's expression was set in stone, but his eyes burned. He held her wordlessly, as he had done when Peter died, and somehow his stoic calm was more comforting than a thousand oaths of vengeance.

More people were crowding around now, echoing exclamations of confusion and dismay. Saiya saw Kormac, pale and shaken, his startled gaze fixed on Lyndon's body. Caesar was supporting Tyrael, who seemed to have retreated into some deep inner sanctum, leaving the outside world to do as it would. He moved when instructed but was capable of nothing more complex than following orders. Captain Haile, his voice tight with anger, was already arranging for the removal of the soldiers' corpses and the expunging of the demonic symbol which Adria had scribed with their blood.

"Cremation," Saiya heard him say. "The services will be held separately, and at once."

"Our friend," said Baal, only a slight hitch in his tone to betray his own grief. "He'll be included?"

"Of course," said Haile. "Of course. I am sorry for your loss."

"I will carry him," Kormac offered gravely. Bending low, he gathered Lyndon into his arms. Saiya tried not to look; she didn't want to see the way his hand hung down, limp and swaying with Kormac's stride. It was too real, it brought home the hard fact that this was no dream, that he truly was gone.

They trailed numbly along in the wake of the dead, and stood like statues in the radiant light of dawn cresting the horizon, while Haile's men constructed pyres and laid their murdered brothers to rest upon them. Watching as they placed Lyndon on the wood, Saiya was filled with a sudden fury – how dare they burn him so quickly, as though trying to dispose of guilty evidence? She was only just beginning to mourn him, and they were trying to erase the last sign of his existence. She would not even have anything to remember him by, except the hole in her heart where his friendship had gradually grown.

"Couldn't they wait?" she hissed to Baal. "Couldn't they wait just a little longer?"

"Haile doesn't want to allow time for the soldiers to grow paranoid," the Hunter replied. "Once they do, how long would it be before they turned on the _other_ strangers in their midst, the ones who brought her here?"

"We should have known," Saiya said. "Now it's too late, she got away, she killed Lyndon for no fucking _reason_ , just because he was _there_ , and she _fucking got away with it!"_

Her voice had risen uncontrollably on the last few words, and people around her were looking at her as though she'd gone insane. Baal stepped forward to block her from their view, a human shield.

"Saiya," he said. " _Nuur il-'en_ , look at me. I will not let this go unpunished. You made a vow to Lyndon … well, I'm making one too. Adria will die. I don't care how long it takes, or what I have to do to make it happen, but it _will_ happen."

Haile had climbed up on the battlements, his back to the rising sun. He began to speak, quiet but sure. "It is not fair," he said, "with so many having lost their lives to a just cause, that we are given more to burn, more to grieve, after we have already triumphed. It is not fair that these men were cut down at the peak of their joy by an enemy of whom there were unaware. But-" And abruptly, his words soared and rose above the meager congregation. "I urge you not to think of them as victims. They died proudly in their duty, they were true men of the Keep!"

"Lyndon wasn't," Saiya muttered rebelliously. "He had no part in this." But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. Lyndon had made himself part of the struggle just as much as she had. She recalled seeing him out on the walls on the first night of the siege, recalled with shame her surprise at his newfound selflessness.

 _He had changed_ , she thought. _The Lyndon I first met would never have risked his life for people he didn't know. He changed through association with_ us _… and that change led him to his death. The old Lyndon would have stayed behind to play cards and make love to that woman, he wouldn't have followed Leah up to the tower top and tried to prevent a murder. The old Lyndon would still be alive._

The fires were lit, the bodies engulfed in flame, the smoke carrying their ashes towards the pale sky. And like that it was over. The world began to move again. The soldiers returned to their posts, or went inside to eat their first meal of the day, or to fall into their beds at last, if their had been on the night guard. And Saiya felt as though she'd been left behind somehow, still kneeling on the tower roof holding Lyndon's hand while he breathed his last.

"Is she alright?" Caesar was asking.

Baal replied, "She's in shock. We all are, I think."

"I can't believe this is happening," the wizard said. "I thought we had finally won, and now … What are we going to do?"

"Do?" Baal repeated. "What _can_ we do? Follow him to the Heavens? With what wings?"

"You're right, of course," Caesar groaned. "Gods, I hate feeling so powerless."

They were alone on the ramparts now, just the four Nephalem, Kormac, and Tyrael, who stared blankly into the rising sun as though if he looked long and hard enough, he might see Leah's image reflected in it. Ghor stood beside him, close but not quite touching, and whispered to him in her own language.

"He saved my life, you know, out on the battlefield," said Kormac. "I was alone, surrounded by death and destruction, and somehow he found me. He could have walked away again ... I'm ashamed to say that once I might have done the same to _him_ ... but he didn't. He stayed and fought with me, as if we were brothers, as if I hadn't always treated him like a worthless criminal. I-" His voice broke. "I can't believe he's gone."

"We'll all miss him, I think," murmured Baal. "He was a much better man than we gave him credit for."

Tilting her head back, Saiya gazed upwards, letting the harsh sunlight warm her face. It was so bright out here – far brighter than it should have been for this early in the day. The sky was blazing white. She lifted a hand to shield her stinging eyes. There was a clank of steel on stone as Kormac prostrated himself on the ground.

"By all that's holy," Baal breathed at her side. His face was full of wonder.

No one made a sound as the immaculate beam of light alighted gracefully on the stones before them and separated into three distinct beings. Beneath their hoods, their faces were not merely shadowed, they were _made_ of shadow. Wings made of filaments of blue mist spread out from their shoulders. Two of them appeared masculine; the third had a more feminine form.

Baal was the first to speak, swallowing a nervous lump in his throat. "G-greetings," he stammered. "Forgive us for our surprise … we've never seen angels in their true form before. Why … why have you come?"

"To entreat your help," replied the female, in a voice made of twilight. "Diablo has begun his assault upon the High Heavens."

"We know," Baal said, bowing his head. "We watched it happen."

"Will you come with us, children of two worlds?"

"You know who we are?" Saiya gasped.

She sensed, rather than saw, a smile. "Of course, daughter. Do you not know _us_?"

While she was absorbing the implications of that statement, Ghor stepped forward and bent to one knee, hands outstretched in supplication. "Father," she said. "I have felt your presence in my sleep. I am honored to feel it in my waking moments."

One of the two male angels advanced and took her hands in his own. A shimmering glow cloaked him for a moment, and when it vanished, an ordinary man stood before them, smiling beatifically. His face was so similar to Ghor's that there could be no mistaking their relationship.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said, almost shyly. "I am Uriel, Angel of the South Wind."

"Since we're doing introductions," sighed the other male, "I may as well join in. I am Azrael, Angel of Truth. Alem is my son."

Baal made a choking noise. Turning to him in alarm, Saiya saw that all the blood had drained from his face, leaving it dead white.

"Your name is Alem," she whispered, awestruck and bizarrely saddened that the knowledge she had sought for so long had not come from him. But she didn't have time to think on it for too long, for the remaining angel laughed lightly.

"Please pardon Azrael," she said. "He sees no point in what he calls the 'human folly' of good manners. I am Eremiel, Angel of Joy … and mother to Saiya."

Fresh tears spilled over and ran down Saiya's cheeks as she gazed at the being in front of her: the manifestation of her lifelong agony and the answer to all her questions. "Can I … can I see your face?" she asked. Her voice came out very small.

Eremiel nodded graciously, pushing back her hood. A visage formed from the shadows beneath, a woman whose age was impossible to guess, with hair the color of sunshine on straw, and a smile that she would know even if she had never seen it.

"I dreamed of you," she murmured in a broken voice. "On a hillside … in the rain. _Mother_."

"Wait," said Baal hoarsely. "There should be four of you. Where is the other?"

Caesar grabbed his arm, fingers digging convulsively into his flesh. "No!" he cried. "Don't ask that! Please, don't ask that!"

"There was another, yes," said Azrael. His own features were plainly visible now, though Saiya was unsure when that had occurred, and he looked so much like an older version of Baal that her heart cracked at the sight.

"Don't _say_ it!" Caesar yelled. Releasing Baal's arm, he placed his hands instead over his own ears, bent double as if in great pain.

"I must," replied Azrael, though not without pity. "I am Truth. There was another. His name was Glorius, and he was the Angel of Pride."

"I killed him," Caesar groaned. "I killed him. That is why I _cannot_ enter the Heavens. I killed my father."

* * *

 **So there it is: all secrets are out. In case you think I changed major lore with the whole Prime Evil thing, rest assured, it still happened ... they just haven't talked about it yet. Reviewers are adored beyond reason!**


	16. 16 - Ascension

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Whispers in the air_  
 _Tell the tale of a life that's gone_  
 _Desolation, devastation_  
 _What a mess we made when it all went wrong."_  
 _-Mike Oldfield_  
 _"Nuclear"_

* * *

 **Okay, so I've succeeded for quite some time in not apologizing for the length of time it takes me to produce these chapters, but on this occasion I feel like it's definitely warranted. I hope that no one gave up on me! In my defense, I can only say that I've had a rotten month ... but things are looking up now. (By the way, Gales, thanks so much for your message and for checking up on me! It really did help ...) Reviews are deeply appreciated, as always! I love you guys!**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Ascension

For a long moment, Saiya could only stare, convinced that she must have heard wrong. But the misery and terror on Caesar's face was unmistakable, and she suddenly remembered his words on the hilltop in Kehjistan: _"I've done something terrible. Something … unforgivable."_

"I think," said the Hunter, in a surprisingly gentle tone, "that you'd better tell us what happened."

"Don't, Ba-" Saiya began, before stopping in confusion. "Um … should I call you Alem now?" It sounded strange but somehow familiar, and she realized that it was the alias he had given himself in Caldeum. _Something easy to remember,_ he had said. So he _had_ told her, in a very roundabout way. How like him.

He grimaced. "I'd rather that you continue to use the name I chose for myself."

"Alright," she said. "Anyway, you can't force Caesar to talk about this if he doesn't want you. It's none of our business."

Caesar interrupted her. "It's okay, Saiya. I appreciate the thought, but it's too late now. I'd rather that you know the full story than only a fraction of it." Heaving a sigh, he clasped his hands together, one thumb rubbing circles over the opposite knuckle as though the contact gave him some comfort. Saiya ached to hug him, and restrained herself.

"My mother's name was Fei," he began. "She was a courtesan who served the scholars and mages of the Thaumaturgy Guild. At the Midwinter Festival one year, she met a stranger and fell in love with him at first sight. They slept together. The following morning, he revealed his true nature to her and said that he had to return to the Heavens, but he promised her that he would come back and claim her as his wife.

"He never did. When I was twelve years old, my mother took her own life. She could no longer bear the grief of having been abandoned. From the moment of her death, I spent all my time and energy on finding a way to make Glorius pay for what he'd done. I taught myself how to summon demons from the Burning Hells, and eventually figured out how to reverse the words of the spell so that it could tear an angel down from the sky.

"Using this, I forced Glorius to assume a mortal shape, and imprisoned him in one of the Guild towers where no one ever went. I thought that angels were immortal … I intended for him to spend a hundred lifetimes in solitude, so that perhaps he could learn what it meant to be bereft. I …" His voice cracked. "I didn't know that he would _die_."

"Do not blame yourself," said Eremiel. "Even among the angels, there are few who share that knowledge. It is likely that Glorius himself was not aware that he could not survive for long in the mortal world."

"He knew," Caesar mumbled. "He told me as much, begged me to let him go. I … I didn't believe him. Three whole years I kept him locked there, even when he began to sicken …" He broke off, his face twisting into a pained expression.

"Hang on," Saiya said, stepping forward. "Caesar … what you did was bad, yes, but it wasn't murder. You can't murder someone by accident." She looked around. "Who here would condemn him for what he did? Not I!"

"Nor I," said Ghor. "As I told you before, _rafiki_ , it was a deed ill done by a grieving boy, nothing more."

"You wanted revenge for your mother," Baal added. "In your place, I'd have done the same – or worse, maybe."

Only Kormac, from his prone position, was silent.

"You see," Saiya said, laying a hand on Caesar's arm. "It's just like with Francis. No one thinks you're a murderer except for you."

The wizard gave her a poignant smile, full of sadness and longing. "I might have known," he said, "that you would jump to my defense. But don't you see? It's all very well for a jury of my friends to declare me innocent, but what of them?" He gestured to the angels. "It was their brother whose life ended at my hands, however intentional that was. _They_ should be the ones to decide my fate."

"I cannot lie," said Azrael, his face grave. "Imperius would not forgive you. Glorius was a particular friend of his, and Imperius has mourned greatly for his loss. Truth be told, I did not like him. He was vain and arrogant, and he did not care overmuch for the lives of human beings. There is …" He hesitated a moment, glancing at his kin. "There is a sort of honor code among the few of us who have propagated among the mortals. We do what we can to stand by our human mates and the offspring they produce. We do not abandon them to a wretched fate."

"Really?" Baal cut in. His voice was harsh, and Saiya winced. Staring boldly up into the face of his father, he said, "That's an interesting statement for you to make, Angel of _Truth_. You seduced my mother and caused her to betray the man she was married to, a _good_ man, a man who treated me like his own even though I wasn't! How do you explain that?"

Azrael frowned. "Who told you that? Did she?"

"No," Baal said, flushing. "No one told me. I didn't even know I was Nephalem until I had to enter that damned temple. But I know that my mother married Saif before I was born. What other explanation could there be?"

"That you were told a lie," Azrael replied dryly, "which they probably thought was for your own good. When I walked among the people of Khanduras and met your mother, she was completely alone in the world. I admired her for her beauty and her courageous spirit. I wanted to lie with her, and she in turn wanted a child. It was part of our agreement that I wouldn't stay, but she never knew that I kept a close eye on her always. I watched her give birth to you in a goatherd's hut, I watched her nourish you from her breast and weep tears of joy. I watched her meet the man Saif when you were around a year of age – too young to remember. His wife had died and left him with a four-year-old son.

"When your mother married him, they decided not to reveal to you or to their future children that the family was not together from the beginning. They believed that it would only cause a divide where there should be none. The older boy knew, unfortunately, but he was under strict orders from his father never to tell anyone. It may seem to you like a needless deception, but Saif loved you as if you were his own. He didn't want you to feel like an outsider in his house."

"He was a good father," Baal said in a choked voice.

Azrael bowed his head. "Yes, he was. I looked down and was glad for the way he raised you."

The Hunter stiffened then, the lines of muscle in his neck and shoulders growing taut. "If you cared so fucking much," he snarled, "then why didn't you stop them from getting fucking slaughtered?"

"I tried," said Azrael, his face laden with sorrow. "I went before Imperius to beg that I be allowed to lead a battalion in defense of Holy Rock. But he refused to acquiesce, saying that he would not lose any of his subjects for the sake of humans. When I tried to go alone, he imprisoned me."

"I see," Baal said. Saiya noticed that his hands, clenched into fists at his sides, were shaking. She reached out and closed her fingers lightly around his wrist, feeling his pulse flutter like a wounded bird.

"Excuse me," she said, addressing the angels. "You have to understand … we're not at our best right now. We've been through hell, our friend has just been murdered, and we all have very complicated emotions surrounding our families. Perhaps it would be easier if we saved any discussion of the past for later, and focused on what needs to be done right now."

"Very sensible, I think," remarked Uriel. "All of you now have a decision before you. You must choose whether you will come with us to the Heavens and fight against Diablo, or whether you will remain here in the mortal world."

"I will join you, father," Ghor said without hesitation. "It is why the spirits called me to leave my homeland, I know that now. Every step of my journey has led me to this point. I cannot turn back, though I am afraid."

"I'll go, too," said Saiya. Baal's hand jerked reflexively beneath her grip, and she said, "If we don't, and the Heavens are destroyed and all the angels killed, what kind of future will we have?"

"Like I'd let you go alone," muttered Baal. "Count me in."

Simultaneously, they all turned to look at Caesar, who had grown even paler, if that was possible. "I …" he stammered. "I c-can't …"

"You don't have to come with us," Saiya interrupted. "It's okay if you want to stay here."

His lips pressed firmly together. "I was about to say that I can't let you go without me."

"It's settled, then," said Eremiel, and abruptly her face was once more a shadow without features. Saiya felt a hollow pang of loss at the sight of it. To help herself master her rampant emotion, she turned businesslike.

"How are we going to do this?"

"I will carry you," her mother replied. "Take my hand, dear one."

"I can bear two," said Azrael.

"What of Tyrael?" Ghor asked. "It does not feel right to exclude him from a battle that will decide the fate of his home."

Cautiously, Uriel approached the giant where he stood, head bowed and eyes closed, the rising sun casting a halo around him. "Brother," he said, "will you take up your sword one last time?"

Tyrael did not answer.

"Brother," Uriel continued, "Imperius has been defeated. He challenged Diablo at the Diamond Gates and was struck down. The Gates are in ruin, the crystal shattered, and our people are dying in the streets. I beg you, fight with us!"

At last, Tyrael's mouth opened, but the sound that emerged was horrible: a rasping, rattling groan through which words could barely be distinguished. "Leah … my Leah ... my heart …"

Eremiel said, "We feel your loss, Tyrael. But if you loved her, do _not_ allow her to be used this way!"

Slowly, Tyrael nodded. Uriel said, "I will carry our brother to the Heavens."

"Kormac!" Saiya exclaimed suddenly. The Templar had not moved, or even raised his face from where it was pressed to the frigid stone, and she was beginning to feel concerned for him. He twitched at the sound of her voice, but didn't look up. She turned to Eremiel. "Can he come with us, if he wants to?"

"I'm afraid not," her mother said, though her tone was gentle. "He would not survive the flight."

"Then I want to say goodbye before we leave." Kneeling beside him, she placed a hand on his hair. He turned his head slightly to look up at her from the corner of his eyes.

 _"Schwesterchen,"_ he whispered. "Take care of yourself, please."

"I will, but ... why are you down here?"

"I am not worthy to look upon them," he replied.

The young monk huffed in exasperation and seized his arm, trying to haul him to his feet. "Don't be ridiculous, Kormac! They might be angels, but they're our parents."

He got up to stand beside her, but kept his face stubbornly averted. Eremiel said, "Son of Man, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Open your eyes."

An expression of startled amazement came over his features, and he turned towards her at last, saying, _"Meine Dame, ich bin geehrt."_

 _"Nein,"_ Eremiel replied. _"Sie sind es, die mich ehren."_ She held out her hand, and he took it as carefully as if it was made of glass and bent to touch his lips to her mailed glove.

"We must go," said Azrael, with a hint of impatience.

Saiya nodded and threw her arms around Kormac's neck, holding him tightly. "I'll miss you," she said. "Thanks for everything."

 _"Ich liebe dich,_ little sister," he said, his voice gravelly. Then, glancing around at the others, he added, "Come back safely, my dear friends. I will watch the skies and wait for your return."

Azrael unfurled his wings in a blast of light that was nearly blinding. Baal's hand found Saiya's for a brief instant and squeezed hard, and then he was walking to stand by his father's side. Saiya and Ghor went to Eremiel, and held on to her. Caesar hesitated, as if even now he didn't feel welcome, but Azrael unceremoniously grabbed hold of him.

And then, in a single bound, they were airborne and rising rapidly. The delicate steel of Eremiel's gauntlets was cold beneath Saiya's fingers, but under that, she could feel a current of joy so pure that she wept at the sensation of it. This emotion, she realized, in a way fundamental beyond understanding, _was_ her mother.

Far below them, the earth was a patchwork of white and grey and black. They had risen above the tallest peak of Arreat, above the smoke from the funeral pyres. It should have been hard to breathe, but somehow it wasn't.

Basking in the beauty of flight, Saiya was caught by surprise when Eremiel's voice echoed around her mind. _-Are you comfortable, daughter?-_

 _-Yes, thank you.-_ she responded; a bit clumsily, as she hadn't thought-spoken with anyone since Kulle. - _This is … amazing.-_

She felt a soft chuckle reverberate in her bones. _-I am glad that you find it so. I have longed for the day when I could share this with you, my darling one.-_

Saiya gulped. _-Please, please don't … I don't think I can handle talking about it right now.-_

 _-There may never be another chance,-_ said Eremiel. _-I want you to know that I never would have left you if I'd had a choice. I stayed as long as I could – long enough to give birth to you and see that you would be taken care of – but even then I knew my body was failing me. I thought that my heart would break on the day that I gave you to your father.-_

 _-I remember …-_ Saiya began, and then the impact of Eremiel's last few words hit her like a sledgehammer. _-Wait, my_ father _? That was the man on the hillside in the rain? But … why did he leave me at the temple?-_

 _-He did not,-_ Eremiel replied. _-He raised you there. Your father was Grigori.-_

 _-Grigori! That's-_ She trailed off. That was the name of the head monk, though she had only ever addressed him as …

Father. The man she had loved and revered, the only paternal figure she had ever known, was in fact her actual flesh-and-blood father. It was too perfect to be true, the sort of thing that happened only in stories, but at the same time, she knew beyond doubt that it was right.

 _-He never told me,-_ she whispered.

 _-He would have been exiled from the temple if he had admitted to siring a child,-_ said Eremiel. _-It caused him great pain to conceal it from you, but he did it so that you could have a safe place in which to grow and learn. He loved you very much.-_

A thousand myriad thoughts and images were encircling Saiya's mind: tiny memories of her childhood, of lessons and punishments, kindnesses and praise, of being taken care of when she was sick, of being played with when she was little, of being watched over by a stern but affectionate eye. Through the turmoil, two things emerged with painful clarity. First, the bitter irony that at the end of a long journey, having finally found that her real father and the man she'd often wished were her father were one and the same, she was instantly deprived of him again. And second, that her lifelong belief that she had been abandoned, unwanted, as an infant was a fallacy. In the blink of an eye, her entire perception of her self shifted subtly, and she realized to her dismay just how much that belief had impacted her life.

And then a third realization, close on the heels of the other two, that though the head monk had continued to provide guidance to her even after his death, she had neither seen, heard, nor felt his presence since the day they fought the Butcher. To her shame, she had not noticed his absence, except perhaps to feel pride that she had passed beyond the need for his instruction.

 _-Mother,-_ she said, hesitantly, _-where is he now? Will I see him again when we reach the Heavens?-_

 _-Ah, my darling, I was afraid you would ask me that,-_ Eremiel murmured. _-He is there no longer. If a spirit chooses to return to the mortal world, it become impossible for them to return. They must dissipate, like dew in the grass, and lose their memories forever.-_

Saiya closed her eyes, feeling tears form and freeze on her lashes. _-Then he sacrificed himself to save me.-_ After a moment of silence, she asked, _-Did you love him?-_

 _-I was happy with him,-_ Eremiel said. - _He was the only thing that ever made me wish to be human.-_

Saiya could have continued asking questions for hours, but at that moment, they broke through a thick blanket of clouds and there above them was the Holy City, glimmering in the light. Ghor uttered a wordless sound of awe. Saiya could only stare.

It was inhumanly beautiful: towers of crystal all clad in shining white, silvery fountains, marble statues, delicate trees with leaves like shards of blue glass, broad streets paved in gold filigree. And yet there was an ominous feeling in the air, detectable even from a distance. Darkness had penetrated into the very heart of light, and demonic corruption spread like a foul mold across the ivory buildings.

They alighted on a large platform in front of what Saiya presumed must have been the Diamond Gates, now reduced to rubble. The others had landed as well, and were looking around in mingled wonder and dismay. But before anyone could speak, there was a flash of light, and another angel appeared before them. Though he looked the same as all the rest, Saiya got the feeling that he was quite young – by angelic standards, anyway.

"Azrael!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing, bringing these humans here? You know Imperius forbids it!"

"Imperius has failed, Israfel," said Azrael. "Until the Heavens are rid of this scourge, his word is no longer law. As for the Nephalem, they have earned the right to stand here alongside their parents. They have defeated two of the Great Evils. Would you deny them the chance to strike down a third?"

Israfel faltered, glancing between his elders. Then his gaze fell on Tyrael, and he gasped aloud. "My lord!" he cried. "Your … your wings!"

"I have relinquished them, and my mantle with them," said Tyrael, calmly. "I stand with mankind now, as one of them."

Israfel seemed to be almost distraught over this. His own wings trembled and folded close about his body, as if he was afraid they too would vanish.

Eremiel said, "How is Imperius?"

"His wounds are grave," replied the young angel. "Hesediel is tending to him in the Healing Chapel, but it will be some time before he is able to move again, let alone fight."

"Perhaps it is for the best," Azrael said grimly, turning a shadowy face towards Caesar. "I will take full responsibility for this. Return to your master and for the time being, tell him nothing."

Israfel shot upwards in a blaze of wings. Baal said, rather insolently, "Encouraging others to tell lies, father?"

"It is not a lie to omit the truth, son," Azrael replied.

"It's kind of a grey area, though," insisted the Hunter. Clearly, he had not yet forgiven Azrael for failing to protect his family.

"There is little time," Eremiel interrupted. "Let us hasten onwards."

"Diablo's up there, isn't he?" Saiya asked, pointing to the great tower that rose like a blade above the rest of the city. "Can't you just fly us?"

Eremiel shook her head. "It would be too dangerous. The demons would certainly notice us and try to force us out of the air. No, I'm afraid that we'll have to go on foot."

"Let's get moving then," said Caesar – the first words he'd spoken since they arrived in the Heavens. He was looking very tense, but determined. As they started off up the great flight of steps that led into the city, Saiya dropped back a few paces so that she was walking next to him, slightly behind the others.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

He shrugged. "I don't know, really. This has all happened so fast. I feel like I'm sleepwalking or something."

"I know what you mean. I think it was very brave of you to come here, Caesar."

"Or very stupid," he muttered. "You heard Baal's dad … if Imperius gets ahold of me, there's no knowing what he'll do."

"I won't let _anyone_ lay a hand on you, angel or no," Saiya said fiercely.

Caesar frowned. "Saiya, love, doesn't it bother you even a tiny bit that I'm the sort of person who's capable of locking someone in a tower until they die?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, if you work hard enough, you can make anything sound horrible. For instance, you could say that I'm the 'sort of person who's capable of splitting a man's head open with my bare hands'. Do I enjoy doing that? Absolutely not. Be honest, what was your reaction when you realized that Glorius was dead?"

"I felt like a monster," Caesar admitted. "I had already released him at that point, but he was too weak to fly."

"So not only did you not mean to kill him, but you actually tried to save his life."

"I guess you could say that. I did a shitty job of it, though."

"Quit being so hard on yourself," Saiya growled, smacking him lightly on the arm. "It's about time you stopped clinging to the past, Caesar. You did something wrong, you paid the price, you suffered for it, you learned your lesson, and now you're a wiser and better man because of it. There's nothing to be ashamed of there. That's how life works."

Sighing, he reached up to tousle her hair. "What would I do without my motivational speaker, huh? Look, it's not going to be easy to just 'move on' after so many years of blaming myself, but you've given me a lot to think about, so … thanks."

"Don't mention it," she replied, with a smile which dropped from her face almost immediately as his expression clouded. Concerned, she reached out to him, but he carefully avoided her touch.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Just a weak moment. We'd better catch up with the others; we're lagging behind."

Saiya's attention had been focused solely on her friend. Glancing up, she saw that the gap between the two of them and the rest of the group had widened far more than she'd expected. Baal was looked back at them, his head cocked to the side as if to say, _'Everything alright?'_

She was just raising her hand to give him a thumbs up when there was a tremendous whooshing sound, following by a series of loud clunks, as if something extremely heavy had fallen from a great height. Baal instantly reached for his crossbows, shouting, "Behind you!"

She spun around to see seven of the strangest demons she had ever encountered, little more than hunched lumps of muscle and bone with a multitude of eyes and a small mouth crowded with fangs. But attached to their short front legs were massive hardened plates that jutted up well above their bulky forms. The purpose of these became obvious when Baal opened fire, only to have the demons draw their legs together so that the two carapaces formed a single impenetrable shield in front of them.

"Stay close to me," said Caesar, pulling out his wand with a flourish.

"They don't look too mobile," Saiya replied. "Maybe we should just-"

One of the demons leaped into the air, aiming to land right where she was standing. She dodged nimbly backwards, and the force of its impact cracked the crystalline substance of the street they were standing on. Another demon followed suit, this time targeting Caesar, who dove to one side to avoid the attack.

Saiya launched herself into a forward roll, passing underneath a third as it jumped, and coming up on the other side of it. A kick to the back caused it to stumble, but did little damage. Worse, it then turned around, and the young monk quickly realized that she'd put herself in a terrible position. Trapped as she was between two of the creatures, if they both decided to charge, she would be crushed to a pulp.

There was a flash of silver in the corner of her eye, and then Eremiel was amongst their foes, a curved blade in her hands. It was almost transparent, and seemed to pass through the demons' shells with no hindrance. Uriel was there as well, wielding a bizarre weapon comprised of a chain with a sickle on one end and a heavy ball of iron on the other. Azrael had taken off and was hovering above them, firing arrows from a longbow almost as tall as he was.

Saiya continued to fight, concentrating mostly on staying out of trouble, though she did shatter one of the abominations that had been frozen by Caesar. Eremiel had just impaled the last one when there was a sharp crack, and the street, which had been weakened by repeated blows, abruptly gave way. The angels were airborne in an instant, but the two Nephalem were not so fortunate. Saiya made a desperate grab at the broken-off edge of the platform as she fell, but only managed to gash her palm open.

Then something sticky wrapped around her and she jerked to a halt in midair, dangling uncomfortable at the end of a rope. Baal's spider-net arrow had saved her yet again – and Caesar as well, for the wizard, thinking quickly, had seized onto her ankles. She could not help him, as her arms were bound to her sides by the coiling strands, but judging by the tightness of his grip, it didn't seem like he was in any danger of letting go.

"Hurry up and get them!" she heard Baal order from somewhere overhead. "The rope is beginning to fray!"

Uriel swooped down, caught Caesar neatly around the waist, and flew up again. Eremiel came only moments later to collect Saiya. She felt a bit like a sack of potatoes as she was deposited on solid ground once more, only to have Baal to kneel beside her and unceremoniously slash away the net with his knife.

"Thank you," she said. "How on earth did you react so quickly?"

"I didn't," he replied shortly. "It was obvious that the road was going to break, so I had my bow loaded in advance. I didn't trust anyone else to get to it in time."

"It is well that you are vigilant, Alem," said Azrael. "We are unused to watching over human beings. It is easy to forget how helpless you are."

Baal scowled. "We're perfectly capable of looking after ourselves, thanks. And my name is Baal."

The angel crossed his arms. "I will not address you by that despicable appellation."

"Well, tough shit! You'd better get used to it, _father_ , because I'm not answering to anything else."

"Foul language does not reflect well on the way your mother raised you."

Baal shot to his feet, shouting, "You leave her out of this!" Azrael actually took a step backwards, as though his son's vehemence was a physical blow.

"Gods, I might have known," Saiya muttered. She rose as well, though with a bit more effort, and placed herself between the two, though she was facing Azrael. "Look," she began, "I mean no disrespect, but you obviously don't know much about people. We don't tend to do too well after our lives have been turned upside down, so it's probably better if you don't goad him right now. Don't scold him, don't mention his family, because it's a very sore subject, and if you _really_ can't bring yourself to call him Baal, at least have the courtesy not to call him by a name that's painful for him to hear."

She could not see Azrael's expression, of course, but waves of shock and indignation were rolling off of him, as easily detectable as cold air to someone as sensitive as herself. He said, a bit snippily, "What would you suggest I call him, then? Boy?"

Saiya shrugged. "Better than the alternative, I suppose. Baal?"

"'Boy' is fine, I guess," he grumbled.

"Excellent," Caesar interrupted, his tone unaccountable chilly. "If we're quite done bickering over minor details, perhaps we could tend to Saiya? She's injured."

That got Baal's attention. "What? Where? Why didn't you say anything?"

She held out her hand, which was stinging rather badly. The cut was long, bisecting her palm at the crease where her fingers folded down. A sizable amount of blood had gotten onto her robe, though it blended in well with the crimson fabric.

"I'm not going to die, you know," she said, watching fondly as he tore a strip of cloth from the hem of his shirt and used it to bind the wound. Baal scowled and said nothing, but he held onto her hand when he was finished, twining their fingers loosely together. She gave a light squeeze, feeling guilty that she hadn't taken the time to ask him how _he_ was coping with all this.

Continuing up the stairs to a balcony overlooking a spacious courtyard, they found another angel, who had apparently been waiting for them. He executed a graceful bow, the tips of his wings nearly brushing the ground.

"Greetings, Nephalem," he said. "It is an honor to meet you at last. I am Itherael, Recorder of Fate."

"Um … nice to meet you," Saiya replied.

"What news?" Azrael inquired.

"Auriel has been taken captive. Without her, the Gardens of Hope wither and die."

"Those are important, I'm guessing," said Baal.

"If we are to heal those who have been wounded after the battle is done, they must be preserved," Eremiel said.

The Hunter nodded. "Well then, it seems like our job is clear. Let's go rescue this Auriel. Where is she?"

"In the Library of Fate," said Itherael. "But beware, for the path ahead is fraught with danger, and I cannot foretell exactly where it will lead you."

"You're not coming with us?" Saiya asked. "We could use as much help as we can get."

A quiet chuckle caused the edges of his hood to vibrate. "I am no warrior. My task is to observe and to record everything I see … past, present, and especially future. That is why is it so strange that your fate is concealed from me."

"I wonder what he meant by that?" Saiya whispered to Baal as they left Itherael and proceeded into a large columned hall.

"Who knows?" her lover answered, shrugging. "I think I'm beginning to understand why Caesar dislikes angels. They act so _superior_ , as if they're better than us simply because they live in the sky."

"Not all of them," she admonished. "Besides, humans aren't immune to arrogance either."

"Yeah, well," he grumbled. "Why does everything they build have to have such grand names? Library of Fate, indeed! It's absurd."

Saiya couldn't prevent a giggle from bursting out at his childish petulance. When he glowered at her, she said, "Well, you have to admit that this place _is_ rather grand. Just look at it!"

"Not for long," Baal muttered. Saiya's grin faded at the sobering reminder that this shining utopia was under attack by forces of evil. Even here, among the trees and fountains, she could see spots of corruption, like angry red boils on a plague victim.

Soon they began to encounter demons of all shapes and sizes, from flying imps to great four-legged behemoths whose footsteps shook the alabaster ground. The Nephalem, weary as they were, soon came to appreciate the presence of their angelic companions, all of whom fought with a fury that was frightening to behold. But even they were not immortal, as was proved by the bodies that they occasionally came across, broken and lifeless, the wings of light extinguished.

Eventually they arrived at the door of the gigantic building which had been visible in the distance from the moment they entered the Gardens. A cold blue glow emanated from within, almost blinding in its brilliance.

"Do not attempt to read any of the scrolls in the library," Azrael warned. "The knowledge they contain is for angels alone." This comment appeared to be directly mostly towards Caesar.

"Like we'll have time to browse," said Baal.

Entering, they found themselves in a circular room with a domed ceiling of crystal and gold, through which the light was filtered in soft beams. Statues of angels watched them from between each set of pillars, their cupped hands overflowing with water. Despite Azrael's cautioning words, Saiya saw nothing that could be mistaken for a book or scroll.

What she _did_ see was a large crimson prism near the far wall; inside it, an angel was held by tendrils of darkness. This, she presumed, was Auriel. There was no enemy in sight, but a premonition of danger caused the hairs at the back of her neck to stand up.

Eremiel was already flying towards her imprisoned sister, but she stopped suddenly in midair and sank to the ground, her hands to her head. A shadow fell over her. Saiya, looking up, beheld a sinister shape suspended at the peak of the dome. It was like an angel, but much larger. In either hand, it held twin black swords of an unusual design – long and blunt, single-edged like a cleaver, and very deadly.

The demon dropped like an arrow towards Eremiel, who was pinned by some invisible force, and Saiya acted without thinking, throwing herself into a warp. She appeared right beside her mother, still in motion, and slammed into her with enough force to carry both of them out of the way. Their assailant landed in the exact spot where they been seconds before, burying its swords to the hilt in the library floor.

"Foolish mortal," it said as it wrenched its weapons free and rose to its full, imposing height. "You have only delayed the inevitable. I know this, for I have read the Scroll of Fate. The Heavens are doomed to fall at the hands of my master, and the streets will run thick with blood. Surrender to your despair, Nephalem!"

"Never!" Saiya spat, and reached deep within herself for the power of the bell.

* * *

 **Kormac says: "My lady, I am honored."  
**

 **Eremiel answers: "No, it is you who honor me."**

 **And finally, of course, our Templar tells Saiya that he loves her (but you all probably knew that!) Please forgive me if my German is imperfect! I will gladly correct if it need be ... :D**


	17. 17 - The Angel of Hope

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Book Three: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Sous le dôme épais  
Où le blanc jasmin  
À la rose s'assemble  
Sur la rive en fleurs  
Riant au matin  
Viens, descendons ensemble." _

**_"Under the heavy dome_**  
 ** _Where the white jasmine_**  
 ** _And the roses twined together_**  
 ** _Flowers on the river bank_**  
 ** _Laughing in the morning_**  
 ** _Let us descend together."_**  
 ** _\- Lakmé_**  
 _ **Flower Duet** _

* * *

**So, this chapter is a little shorter than I'd prefer, but I figured that I'd kept you guys waiting for long enough. Prepare for my signature blend of short, intense action scenes and long drawn-out intense personal drama in the aftermath of said action scenes! :D Also, one more thing: I have a new story posted! It's a spin-off of AVO entitled Scattered Memories, and I would encourage anyone who likes this story to check it out! It's basically a gift to you all for being such lovely readers! :)**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: The Angel of Hope

The response was swift and sure: a vibrant outpouring of holy power rippling out towards her foe. He crossed its swords in an X-shape, blocking the attack, though he did slide back a few feet.

"Impressive, for a frail sack of flesh and bones," he sneered. "So you wish to fight, then, do you? I shall show you the true might of Rakanoth!"

Abruptly, the demon disappeared. Acting on pure intuition, Saiya ducked into a forward roll just as the giant swords crashed down from behind. Spinning, she slipped under a thrust, slashing at her opponent's wrist with her bladed knuckles. They glanced ineffectually off his armor.

An arrow sailed past her cheek and struck Rakanoth in the chest, drawing his attention away from her. She took the chance to cartwheel out of his range. But something was wrong – Eremiel wasn't moving, and the other angels were likewise huddled on the floor, their wings limp and trailing. Even Tyrael was leaning heavily against a pillar, as though all his strength had suddenly deserted him.

"What's wrong with them?" Caesar demanded.

"I do not know," said Ghor. "They seem to be paralyzed. We must protect them."

Even as she spoke, Rakanoth was striding towards Eremiel, who was closest to him. He raised his swords, and Saiya darted forward, placing herself between the demon and her mother.

"You're fighting _me_ , remember?" she snarled.

Rakanoth took a swing at her. She deflected it, though the vibrations of steel on steel made her bones ache. An uppercut to the jaw caused him to stagger slightly, but before she could follow it up with another punch, he brought his sword up again, the blunt back edge catching her in the side with crushing force and sending her flying. She skidded along the floor, fire licking viciously along her ribs.

Rakanoth leaped after her, only to be met with a wall of ice which Caesar had conjured at the last moment. It slowed him enough that Saiya was able to crawl behind a nearby pillar. She leaned against it, gasping for breath. Once she had the pain under control, her first thought was for the child in her womb – had it been damaged by the blow? She could still feel the little flicker of lifeforce, but any further investigation would take too much time.

Peering out from her hiding place, she saw that Caesar had used his magic to transform his wand into a sword which resembled an icicle. He was wielding it like a rapier, inflicting many small cuts to Rakanoth's arms and face while avoiding the arcs traced by his powerful but cumbersome blades. Meanwhile, Baal was taking careful shots from afar, while Ghor had summoned a pair of her demonic hounds that snapped at the demon's heels.

It was a good strategy, to keep him distracted enough that he couldn't focus completely on any one of them, but it could only work for so long before one of them (most likely Caesar, as he was closest) made a fatal mistake. They needed to end this fight quickly.

Saiya tried to get up, but a fresh wave of agony knocked her back. She must have groaned aloud, for moments later, Baal came sprinting towards her and dropped to his knees by her side. His eyes were burning brightly in the shadow of his hood.

"Are you alright?" he asked, keeping his voice low so the demon wouldn't notice them.

"I'm fine, I think," she replied. He frowned at her, and she amended, "Maybe some broken ribs."

"Fuck," he growled. "I don't know what I was thinking, letting you come along. You should be resting back at the Keep right now."

"Don't start," she warned him. "It's too late for that, anyway. Let's just concentrate on staying alive."

There was a piercing yelp from the center of the room. One of Ghor's hounds had been cleaved in two mid-jump. The other was standing guard in front of Eremiel, who still appeared to be incapable of movement. Rakanoth attacked it, but it refused to budge, calmly accepting its death. At the last moment, however, it suddenly _exploded_ , as though one of Baal's bombs had been hidden inside it.

The demon reeled, black blood running down from the eye-slits in his helmet. Then he turned towards Caesar, but rather than looking directly at the wizard, he was focused on a spot on the wall behind him.

"That blinded him," Saiya whispered. "This is our chance!"

Baal shot him square in the back of the head. The bolt penetrated only partway, slowed by the thick metal of his helmet, but a terrible sound erupted from his throat, like a thousand people screaming at once. Saiya clapped her hands over her ears to block it out.

Rakanoth began to thrash around, swinging his swords indiscriminately but with such violence that it was impossible to get near him for fear of being hit. Caesar backed up until he reached Eremiel, then grabbed her under the arms and dragged her awkwardly away from the danger zone. The Hunter continued to fire arrows, but most of them either missed or glanced off their rapidly-moving target.

"Auriel!" cried a voice. It appeared that Tyrael had recovered from his stupor enough to call out. Saiya followed his gaze and gasped. Whether by accident or by design, the pattern of Rakanoth's erratic advances had carried him close to the crystal where the Angel of Hope was imprisoned. Saiya could only presume that if it were to be smashed, Auriel would die.

"Godsdamnit," she muttered. Baal opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she had warped directly into Rakanoth's path and summoned the bell. Having caught him unawares this time, it did far more damage, knocking him flat on his back and peeling away several pieces of his armor to reveal shriveled flesh beneath.

Before the demon could rise, Tyrael strode forward and plunged his sword into the bared midsection, pinning his foe like a beetle on a card. For a moment, Rakanoth's limbs twitched and spasmed, and then he lay still. With a sigh of relief, Saiya turned to Auriel's cage.

A darkness began to rise from Rakanoth's corpse, swirling around the room like a maelstrom. It was filled with the shrieks of children, the sobs of bereaved wives, the death-blow of an executioner's axe. As it enclosed her, Saiya felt despair settle its iron weight over her heart. The voices seemed to whisper in her ear: _You will never find happiness. This is a fight you cannot win. Give up, lie down, let your end take you swiftly._

"Kill him, kill him _now_!" someone was shouting. Baal. She couldn't see him through the thick fog, but it sounded like he was somewhere off to the left. Was he speaking to her, or another? She couldn't tell.

"I already have!" bellowed Tyrael. "We must release Auriel! Only she is strong enough to combat this!"

 _Auriel cannot save you,_ the voices laughed mockingly. _There is no hope left in this world._

Saiya crawled forward until her hands bumped up against the smooth, warm surface of the demonic prism. She could dimly see Auriel's feet within, her ankles bound together. Raising her hand, the young monk struck the crystal as hard as she could.

Nothing happened.

 _See? You are weak and powerless, mortal girl. Relinquish yourself to me now._

"No," she groaned through gritted teeth. "I will _not_."

Again and again Saiya slammed her fist into the walls of the prison, until the cut on her palm split and bled anew, but each blow felt more pitiful than the last. She could not even manage to crack it, let alone break it open.

 _You still struggle? Ridiculous …_

With a ragged cry, she summoned all her strength, filling the bones of her forearm with the glow of holy fire. There was enough force behind her attack to shatter stone or fell a tree, and the recoil when she made contact left her whole arm numb and trembling. There was a ringing in her ears. She looked down.

The blade had snapped off of her brass knuckles and was lying on the ground. There was no visible damage to the crystal.

 _Is that the best you can do? You're truly pathetic. You're nothing … no,_ less _than nothing._

Saiya's hand, slick with her own blood, slipped out from underneath her and she collapsed onto her side. Her cheek pressed against the marble floor. She was so tired, and it felt good not to move. Peaceful oblivion, where she'd never have to think or feel again: that's what the demon offered. She'd be a fool not to accept.

In the center of the whirlpool, a deeper darkness was growing, the complete and utter black of the void where no life was possible. It sucked the miasma into itself, slowly draining the room of its evil influence. As visibility returned, Saiya felt her spirits begin to lighten. She raised her head and saw Caesar, on his stomach in the middle of the room, his hand outstretched. It was he who had cast the spell, opening a portal into empty space.

The cloud of despair was gone now, as was Rakanoth's body, but the black hole remained, growing larger by the second as it pulled in bits of the surrounding building. A moment later, Saiya felt herself sliding along the floor. She tried to grab onto something, but there were no handholds or crevices to catch ahold of.

"Caesar!" Baal roared. "What the fuck are you doing? Close it! You're going to kill her!"

The wizard's face was dead white, his horrified gaze fixed on Saiya. "I- I can't!" he stammered. "I can't control it! I-"

She was almost to the lip of the abyss, so close she could reach out and touch it. Baal was frantically reloading a spider-silk arrow into his bow, but she could tell that he wasn't going to make it in time. Her eyes locked with Caesar's, and she smiled, wanting him to know that she forgave him, that it wasn't his fault.

A large arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her. Tyrael pulled her tight against his chest, clinging to the sword that he'd driven into the floor like a stake. The black hole was still tugging at their feet, but as long as he held her, they were safe.

Caesar made a muffled sound of pain, and the pull stopped. Saiya rolled onto her back. She felt dizzy, and it seemed as if the ground beneath her was tilting. Dimly, she could hear Baal yelling in the background, a long string of expletives and insults directed mostly at Caesar, she assumed. Despite her best efforts, she could not muster the energy to sit up and tell him to calm down.

Tyrael's face swam into view, gazing down at her with concern in his dark eyes. He asked, "Are you alright, child?"

"Yeah," she said. "You saved me. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure," he replied, ever courteous.

"I'm glad you came with us, Tyrael. And I'm really sorry about Leah."

He bowed his head, and Saiya could see the shining track of a single tear that rolled down his cheek. "I failed her," he murmured.

"We all did." _Myself included,_ she thought. _I was too wrapped up in petty jealousy to notice what Adria was doing to her, or to care. If I'd been a better person …_

Baal had turned to the three angels. "And _you_ , what the hell were you all sitting around for?"

"Don't take that tone with me, son," Azrael growled, his arms folded and his wings tightly furled.

"Please forgive us," said Uriel. "We are very vulnerable to emotional assaults, and Rakanoth was a powerful demon. Surely you felt it yourself, the despair that his presence induced."

"That sort of thing has no effect on me," Baal replied. "And I don't see why-"

"I felt it," Saiya interrupted, rising at last with Tyrael's help. "I was ready to give up completely before you cast that spell, Caesar."

From where he was sitting, the wizard looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. He was clutching his thigh, and the point of his wand was bloody. Saiya cringed, realizing that he'd managed to finally close the black hole by stabbing himself.

Baal came over to her and cupped her cheek in his palm, his gaze intense as he looked her over. His free hand hovered over her ribs, though he refrained from actually touching them.

"Don't scare me like that again," he whispered. "I thought you were going to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

"I'm sorry," she said, kissing him chastely. "I really wasn't trying to put myself in danger, but I could hardly let him kill the angel we're here to save."

His lips twitched. "No, I suppose not. Speaking of that, I guess we'd better do something about her."

"No need," said a melodic voice from behind them. "I am free."

Turning around, Saiya saw that the prism had vanished. Auriel was standing before them, stretching her wings, which were slightly different than those of the other angels, being pale purple in color instead of blue.

"Sister," said Tyrael, embracing her, "it has been too long since last we met."

"I wish that the circumstances could be different," Auriel sighed. "This is hardly the homecoming you deserve, Tyrael. Have you spoken to Imperius?"

Tyrael shook his head. "We did not deem it wise to … disturb him."

"We have brought the humans," said Azrael, bluntly.

"So I can see." The faceless shadow beneath the white hood shifted towards Baal and Saiya. "Welcome, Nephalem. I thank you for saving me. You have restored hope to our troubled realm."

"Thank us later, once Diablo is dead," grunted Baal. "Until that happens, we've only delayed the inevitable."

Though they couldn't see Auriel's expression, Saiya got the feeling that she was smiling at them. "I had forgotten what dealing with humans is like," she said. "You are so _sensible_. I, on the other hand, cannot help but hope, even if it is irrational. It is my aspect."

Saiya contemplated for a moment what it would be like to embody one emotion or concept, and one only. Did that mean that the Angel of Courage was incapable of experiencing joy? That seemed kind of sad, in a way.

"Imperius' troops have set up a barricade in the tower," Auriel was saying. "They have slowed Diablo's advance enough that we still have some time. We must try to win back the lower levels so that we will not be overrun."

"How exactly to you propose we do that?" Baal demanded. "If you hadn't noticed, there are demons everywhere, and more coming in all the time. The four of us aren't going to be able to do much against that."

"The demons have entered Heaven through rifts opened by Diablo that lead directly into the Burning Hells. You must locate these and seal them from within."

The Hunter sighed. "Fine, we can do that. Is there some place where Saiya can rest safely in the meantime?"

"Hang on!" she protested. "Who said anything about resting?"

He gave her a desperate look. "Sweetheart, _please_ don't fight me on this. You're exhausted, you've got broken ribs, and you're pregnant, for the gods' sake. For once in your life, will you let me take care of you like I want to?"

"He is correct, child," said Ghor. "It would be wise to listen to him, and to your own body. Though you are very strong and can endure much more than a normal human being, there is a danger that if you push yourself too hard, you could lose your child."

Saiya swallowed hard. Somehow, in all she'd been through since she discovered her pregnancy, the idea that she might miscarry had never occurred to her. That seemed quite foolish in retrospect. She couldn't help placing a protective hand over her stomach at the thought.

"Okay," she said. "You're right, I should take it easy."

"I will take you to my private gardens," said Auriel. "If there is any place in the Heavens that evil has not corrupted, it will be there."

"You too, _rafiki_ ," murmured the witch doctor, helping Caesar to his feet. She gave him a slight push in Auriel's direction, and he stumbled forward, moving automatically much like a sleepwalker.

Saiya gazed at Baal for a long moment, trying to memorize every beloved detail of his face. It felt very strange to be sending him off into unknown dangers without her at his side – something that she'd never voluntarily done. He caught her looking and winked at her, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Be careful, my darling," she murmured. _"Ahebbouka."_

" _Ahebbouka, nuur il-'en,"_ he replied, and lowered his head to kiss her. She stiffened at first, painfully conscious of the angels (their _parents_ ) standing close by. But his lips were insistent and after a moment, she thought, _fuck it, if they have a problem with it, they can go hang,_ and kissed him back as passionately as she could. His fingers threaded through her hair, lightly tugging her closer to him.

In the background, she heard Azrael say, "There will be time for this later." Eremiel hushed him sharply, replying, "Just let them have their moment. You should be happy that your son has found someone he cares for so deeply."

"You do not think it odd," said the Angel of Truth, "that our children are in love with each other?"

"Not a bit. In fact, it seems like it was meant to be."

Upon first hearing that, Saiya felt a glow in her chest at the knowledge that her mother approved of her choice of partner. But after the group had parted, Auriel leading her and Caesar away while Baal and Ghor joined the other three, something about the exchange began to unsettle her. Shyly, she reached up to tap Auriel on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," she began, "I wonder if I might ask you a question."

Auriel inclined her head. "Of course. Ask away."

"Why did Azrael think it was strange for Baal and I … for us to be in love?"

"He and Eremiel were once bonded, long ago," Auriel said. "Or to translate into human terms, 'married'."

"Oh _gods_!" Saiya exclaimed, feeling slightly nauseous. "Does that mean that Baal and I are … related?"

"Not even remotely," said Auriel, laughing gently. "It was ages before the two of you were conceived, and in any case, love between angels is different that it is with humans. It is more pure, a choice between two compatible aspects to seek companionship together. There is no intercourse involved. In their original forms, angels are incapable of procreation."

"Then how do you …"

"Exist? We are born from the lightsong of the Crystal Arch during a moment when the Heavens are in perfect harmony. If Diablo is allowed to destroy the Arch, it will mean the end of our race."

"We won't let that happen to you," Saiya promised. "Together, we have killed Belial and Azmodan. We can kill Diablo too."

"I hope that you are right," said Auriel. She stopped in front of a blank wall and passed her hand in front of it. The expanse of creamy marble disappeared to create a gateway into a circular chamber with a pool of water in the center surrounded by white lilies and cherry trees in full bloom. The air was delicately scented, and Saiya felt a placid calm descend upon her as soon as she stepped inside. When she looked up, she saw the sun through a ceiling of stained crystal.

"Please, rest and enjoy yourselves," Auriel said, gesturing towards the pool. "If you would like some refreshments, you may drink from the water jugs over there. It should be nourishing enough for you, if not as substantial as human fare."

"Thank you," Saiya said. "This is very kind of you."

"Think nothing of it. You are welcome here, Nephalem – all of you, regardless of what Imperius might say." With that, she turned and glided away, wings undulating behind her like willow leaves in a swift current, leaving Saiya with more questions than she had received answers to. The name Imperius had arisen several times since their arrival in the Heavens, and each time it was spoken with a curious mixture of respect and disapproval. She recalled vaguely that he was the leader of the angels, and it seemed as though he did not care much for humans. She hoped that she wouldn't have to meet him.

Caesar was nowhere in sight, but Saiya didn't worry too much, figuring that perhaps he just needed some time to himself. Stripping down, she waded into the pool, which was shaped like a bowl with concentric rings of marble steps. The water was the perfect temperature, neither warm nor cool but somewhere in the middle. She sat down, submerging up to her chin.

It wasn't long before she began to suspect that the pool had some healing properties, similar perhaps to the well in Emperor Hakan's treasure room, for after a few minutes she noticed that the pain from her broken ribs had faded considerably. The bruise was still there – a massive black-and-red mark that stretched from hip to breast – but she could now move and breathe properly. Additionally, the cut across her palm seemed to have healed up with only a thin scar to show where it had been.

A rustling in the grass caused her to turn around, only to come face to face with Caesar. The wizard's eyes flashed to her exposed chest, and he made a choking sound, his eyes snapping closed and a fierce blush rising in his cheeks.

"Sorry," Saiya gasped, standing up to reach for her robe. She sat back down at the edge so that her feet could soak a little longer.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Caesar said, his voice low. He had opened his eyes again, but still wasn't looking at her.

"Well," she said, "I shouldn't have undressed completely. I didn't realize you were still here."

"I can go if you like."

She shook her head, patting the ground beside her. "No, stay. Keep me company."

He did as she'd asked, obviously favoring his injured leg. It didn't look as though he'd done anything to care for the wound. His face was grey and haggard with exhaustion, and for the first time since she'd met him, he looked far older than his thirty-odd years. Concerned, she murmured, "Are you alright?"

" _You're_ asking _me_?" He let out a bitter laugh. "I almost killed you, Saiya. You should be telling me that you never want to see me again."

"Oh, gods," she groaned. "Not again. This self-flagellating attitude of yours is getting really old, Caesar. Let me make this really clear once and for all. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault. Okay? It wasn't your fault. You saved us all by casting that spell, and anyway, I'm fine. Nothing happened to me."

"But it could have," he said stubbornly. "I almost lost you forever because I couldn't control my own godsdamned magic."

"Caesar," she sighed, covering his hand with her own. "It's okay. You managed to stop it in time. And if that's not good enough for you, then I'll just say, 'I forgive you'."

His gaze snapped over to her, and there was something almost feverish burning in his crystal-grey eyes. "I love you," he rasped. Clearly, it wasn't what he'd meant to say, for an expression of horror crossed his face as soon as the words had left his mouth. But there was no taking them back. Saiya carefully removed her hand and placed it back in her own lap.

"Ah," she mumbled. "I … uh, I kinda thought that might be the case, but I didn't really _know_ … not for sure. Um …"

"Shit," he said, sounding miserable and angry. "Shit, _fuck_ , sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have burdened you with that. Fuck."

"You're starting to sound like Baal," she teased, trying desperately to lighten the mood. "I don't think I've ever heard you swear so much."

"I sound far too much like Baal at the moment, I think," he replied. "I'm such a fucking idiot, Saiya."

"Caesar …" Her heart hurting for him, she reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, thought better of it, and instead simply smiled at him. "It's … unfortunate, that's all. I know you can't help the way you feel, just like I can't."

He groaned, holding up his hands. "I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

"And I think we need to," she said, as gently as she could. "If we don't, there will always be a gulf between us."

"There will anyway," he muttered. "I thought I could bear it – I _know_ I can! – But I … I just … it _hurts_ , Saiya. All my life, I've taken what I wanted from people and moved on when I'd had my fill. Gods help me, I've tried not to hurt anyone, but all the same, I found that no matter how beautiful or interesting a woman I found, she could never hold my attention for too long. And then I met you, and suddenly I didn't _want_ to move on anymore. I just wanted … you. I still want you. The one woman I've ever truly loved, and you can't be mine."

To her shame, Saiya felt tears filling her eyes. She whispered, "I'm sorry. I really am."

"What? No!" Caesar exclaimed, looking completely aghast. "No, Saiya, please don't cry, _please_ , love! I never meant to make you-"

"You didn't," she insisted. "I'm sorry because you're in pain, and it's all my fault. If I hadn't encouraged you so much, practically _seduced_ you, even, this wouldn't have happened. I've been a terrible friend."

"No," he murmured, shaking his head. "Never think that. You've given me far more than I ever deserved. And I'll always be yours, Saiya. I say that without hope or expectation of a reward. It's enough to me to know that you're happy. Baal is a good man, and even a fool like myself can see that the two of you were made for each other. I'd never purposely do anything to interfere with that. But just permit me one question: the last thing I'll ever ask of you, I swear. If you had never met him, would I have had a chance of making you love me?"

 _Yes,_ she wanted to say. _Yes, you know you would._ But it seemed a cruel thing to say, a reminder of what fate had denied him. What good would it do him, to know and be unable to forget? And so she decided to honor his sacrifice with one of her own, and with a smile locked her heart away and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. And she knew he understood her perfectly, without any need for words.

They sat silent in the garden together for a long time.

* * *

 **Okay, I _promise_ that was the last scene of that sort we'll ever see between them. That subplot is officially closed. I beg your pardon for spending so long on it in the first place, but I felt like it needed some closure. Anyway, reviews help me out like you wouldn't believe! And check out Scattered Memories! :D  
**


	18. 18 - Corrupted

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Erst wenn die Wolken schlafengehn_  
 _Kann man uns am Himmel sehen_  
 _Wir haben Angst und sind allein_  
 _Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein."_

 ** _"Only when the clouds sleep tight_**  
 ** _Can you see us in the heavens_**  
 ** _We are afraid and alone_**  
 ** _God knows I don't want to be an angel."_**  
 ** _\- Rammstein_**  
 ** _Engel_**

* * *

 **I posted this a couple days, ago, but there was an error and I'm not sure that it properly showed the update. Ugh...**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Corrupted

Baal and the others returned hours later, battered and weary. Uriel was not with them.

"My father gave his life to save ours," said Ghor, in a voice hoarse with grief. "We had to destroy the Hell rifts from within, but once the final one was closed, there was no way of escape. He volunteered to stay behind and destroy the mechanism."

"We will sing of his bravery for eons," Eremiel declared. "Do not feel sorrow at his passing, for he will be reborn to us in the next lightsong."

"If we can keep Diablo from destroying the Crystal Arch, that is," muttered Baal. He was limping again, and Saiya stepped forward to let him lean on her. She could feel his lean body trembling against her.

"You and Ghor need to take a short break," she said, "or you won't be good for anything."

"Eremiel and I will scout ahead and see how the battle fares," said Azrael. "Tyrael, rest your mortal bones."

"I do not wish to sit idle here in the gardens!" Tyrael protested. "At least allow me to do something of use."

Auriel placed her hand upon his shoulder. "Brother, come with me if you will. We have delayed far too long in consulting Imperius. If any of us have a chance of convincing him, it is you."

"I doubt that," Tyrael said, but he allowed her to lead him away. Azrael and Eremiel took to the sky without a word of farewell, which Saiya was learning to expect. Angels seemed to be inconsistent when it came to human courtesies.

"I'm going to take a nap," Baal declared, dropping his crossbows in a pile and stretching out on the soft grass. Saiya sat down beside him so that he could pillow his head in her lap. He was asleep in moments. Fondly, she stroked the hair back from his forehead and wondered if his time practicing mediation had helped at all, or whether he was merely exhausted.

"I'm very sorry about Uriel," she murmured to Ghor, who had joined her beside the pool.

The _sangoma_ was silent for a few minutes, running her finger over the petals of a lily. At last she said, "What is the meaning of all this suffering? What end can it have? Why do we continue to torment ourselves?"

"You're asking me?" Saiya exclaimed.

Ghor closed her eyes. "Once, I had a candle to light my path. Now it has been snuffed out. I am walking in the dark."

Saiya was dismayed to hear Ghor, who she considered to be the wisest and most emotionally balanced of their little group, talking in such a manner. She said, "You aren't alone. You've got us with you. I know that we aren't your _loa_ , but you can still rely on us."

"I know," the older woman murmured. "But it has been a long and difficult road, and I am very tired. It has been so long since I saw my Jahaira."

"Tell me more about her," Saiya said, hoping to coax her friend into a better frame of mind. "How did you meet?"

A fond smile graced Ghor's features. "I have known her all her life. As the village priestess, my mother Ghisai was present at all births, and she often brought me with her to assist. I was eight years old when Jahaira was born. I often played with her when she was a child. As she grew older, my feelings began to change, but I never dreamed that she might share my love."

"You must have been very happy to find out that she did," Saiya remarked.

"She had another partner before me," Ghor said. "A man who did not treat her well. He was very suspicious of everyone she talked to, and everywhere she went. Eventually she came to me for help, and I allowed her to live with me. It was then that we discovered the true nature of our bond. The years since then have been the most wonderful of my life."

"She sounds like an amazing person," said Saiya. "I hope I get to meet her someday."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Ghor said, "Will you do something for me, Saiya? I do not like to ask, but I am unable to access my mana without another to act as a conduit. Would you consent to-"

"Of course!" Saiya exclaimed, accidentally interrupting in her haste to be helpful. "Do you want me to meditate again, like I did last time?"

"Yes, please."

Saiya thought about moving Baal's head off her lap, but decided against it. He needed all the sleep he could get, and she could enter her state of calm as easily from this position as any other. She let her eyelids drift shut, seeking the deep peace at the center of her soul. Ghor's hands enclosed her own, and within moments, she saw before her the gate that locked the _sangoma's_ vast reservoir of power away. She eased it open, allowing just a thin stream to trickle past her.

"Stop!" Ghor cried, wrenching her hands away. Saiya felt the severance of their connection like a jolt in her stomach, as if a rope and broken and sent her plummeting.

"What?" she gasped.

Ghor was breathing hard, her lips pressed tightly together. "Something is not right," she muttered. "I sensed a terrible presence within you."

"Within _me_?" Saiya asked, fear sharpening her voice. "What do you mean?"

Footsteps pounded against the ground; Caesar had come running from the other side of the garden, wand in hand. He relaxed when he saw that there were no enemies in sight.

"What's going on?"

"That's what I want to know," Saiya said, frowning. "Ghor, what presence?"

The _umbaru_ woman's eyes met hers, and they were full of horror. _"Azmodan,"_ she whispered.

"Where?" Caesar demanded.

"In me," Saiya said flatly. Alarm flashed across his face.

"What? _How?_ Ghor, are you sure about this?"

"It was unmistakable," Ghor replied, her tone grim. "I am sorry if this question is unpleasant for you, Saiya, but I must ask. Did he rape you?"

"No," she answered.

"Oh, thank the gods," Caesar sighed.

"But," she added, "he touched my stomach."

At that, Ghor's face grew even more serious. "Did he say anything?"

Saiya struggled to remember the exact wording that the Lord of Sin had used. So much had happened since her ordeal that the details had become somewhat fuzzy in her mind. At last she mumbled, "I think it was, _'I have planted a seed in the mortal world; a seed that will grow in secrecy until it becomes strong enough to destroy all that lies in its path.'_ That's as much as I can remember, anyway. I didn't understand what he meant. I still don't."

"I do," Ghor said, "but I pray that I am wrong."

"Tell me," Saiya ordered. When her friend hesitated, she said, "Ghor, I _need_ to know. What has he done to me?"

"Not to you, dear one. To your child. I am afraid that he may have corrupted it."

Saiya's head spun, and she thought for a moment that she would be sick right there on the grass. Unconsciously, her fingers knotted in Baal's shirt. He had remained miraculously asleep through all the commotion, and part of her was glad. If what Ghor had said was true …

How could she tell him? How would she be able to face him once he knew that their child – _his_ child – had been tainted by their most foul enemy? And it was all her fault. If she had not allowed herself to be captured, if she had fought harder to resist the influence of the incubi and tried to escape, this might not have happened.

"But you can cure her, right?" Caesar was saying. "I mean, you've dealt with demon corruption before."

"Yes," Ghor replied, "by removing it completely. But in this case, it is not so easy. If the infection has taken root in the unborn child, to remove it would-"

"No!" Saiya said, low and fierce. "I won't let you kill my baby!" She placed both hands protectively over her belly.

"No one's talking about killing the baby," Caesar said, laid a consoling hand on her arm. She shrugged him off, ignoring the hurt that he tried and failed to hide. The buzzing in her ears was growing louder by the second, and all she wanted was to flee as far away from this nightmare place as she could. How had things gotten out of control so quickly?

"Please," she murmured, and heard her own voice come from some disembodied source. "We'll deal with it later, once Diablo has been defeated. Auriel might know what to do. My mother said that she was a healer. I just ... I can't think about this right now. It's too much. It's all too much."

To her shame, she was crying. Caesar bit his lip, looking as if he wanted desperately to comfort her, but he restrained himself. Ghor said, "I caution you that it is very dangerous to wait. The sooner we act, the greater chance that your child can be saved."

"I know," said Saiya, "but right now, we don't have time. We must stop Diablo before he's able to tear down the Crystal Arch."

"Then _we'll_ fight him!" Caesar growled. "Stay here and let Auriel take care of you."

She honestly considered it for a moment. It was the intelligent thing to do, after all; the only option that would allow her to get the care that she needed without holding up the group, which would potentially have fatal consequences. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that Caesar, Ghor, and Baal alone were simply not equal to the task of defeating a Great Evil, especially one as powerful as Diablo. Ghor was unable to access her _mana_ , and Caesar's magic was so unstable at present that he could hardly be relied upon. That left the Hunter to bear the brunt of the battle, and though he had been the one to slay Azmodan, Saiya was not convinced that a second such victory was possible. At the very least, he was likely to lose his life in the process.

Caesar must have read her mind, for he said, "Don't worry, we'll be fine. The angels will be with us."

"Yes, and remember what happened when we fought Rakanoth? He wasn't even a quarter as powerful as Diablo is sure to be, and they were completely incapacitated. Caesar, you need me. You know you do."

"I need you to be _alive_ , lo- uh, Saiya." He cut himself off, awkwardly changing the endearment into her name at the last moment. "Look, you know as well as I do that Baal's not going to allow you to fight once he hears the news. He'd tie you down if he had to, and frankly, I'm not sure it would be the wrong thing for him to do. So why don't you make things easier, and just agree to stay?"

"You're right," she said, "he wouldn't let me. So I'm not going to tell him until it's over. And neither are you, Caesar. Promise me."

His jaw tightened. "No."

"If you love me at all, promise me that you won't tell him." It was fighting dirty, and she hated herself for it, but there would be time to apologize later.

"I …"

"I'm _begging_ you."

"I promise," he muttered, sounding supremely unhappy. Saiya squeezed his wrist.

"Thank you. Ghor?"

"It is your decision to make," the _sangoma_ sighed.

At that moment, Azrael alighted gracefully in front of them, the grass barely bending beneath his feet. He surveyed them with an air of detached confusion, as though the ways of humans were beyond his comprehension.

"Eremiel is waiting for us at the doorway to the Silver Spire," he said.

"Will you give me a moment to prepare myself before we go?" Ghor inquired.

The angel nodded, saying brusquely, "Make haste."

Ghor rose and headed for a private corner of the garden, tapping Caesar discreetly on the head as she passed him. He got up and followed her, leaving Saiya alone with Azrael and her sleeping lover. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, but she could think of no words to fill it.

"So," said Azrael after a minute, "you are in a relationship with my son."

Saiya gazed defiantly up at him, in no mood to be trifled with. "Yes, I am. And before you ask, I don't care if you approve and I'm pretty sure that Baal doesn't either."

Azrael tilted his head to one side. "Why would you think that I don't approve of such a union?"

"I heard you ask my mother if she thought it was odd."

He surprised her with a deep chuckle. "And so it is. But odd does not necessarily equate to wrong. You make Alem happy. This pleases me. Perhaps he has finally learned how to choose a partner who will be good to him."

"I love him," Saiya declared.

"Yes," said the angel. "That is plain. And he loves you." He sighed. "For a long time, I feared for him. After his family died, he became a different person for a while: vindictive, angry, and bitterly unhappy. Truly, it was not until you entered his life that I began to see flashes of the boy he had once been, the child I had thought forever lost."

 _Well, that's not a surprise, considering the women he was involved with before me,_ Saiya thought, but she wisely kept that to herself, only nodding in agreement.

Azrael continued, "I must confess, I was hoping that he might look on me a little more kindly. I did not expect him to resent me."

"Why wouldn't he?" Saiya said. "Your existence means that the man who he loved and revered as a father has no blood relation to him whatsoever." _Just the opposite of myself, in fact. Isn't life ironic sometimes?_

"But surely that matters not!" protested Azrael.

"To Baal, it matters quite a bit. But I wouldn't give up on him quite yet, if I were you. Sometimes it takes him a while to warm up to people. Give him some time and treat him with respect, and he'll come around."

"Hmph," Azrael grumbled. "I suppose that you're going to tell me that calling him by that damned nickname falls under the definition of 'respect'."

She couldn't help the smile that crept onto her lips. "Absolutely."

"Then I will do my best to tolerate the use of it," he said, with an air of long-sufferance. Saiya's smile widened. She found that she was starting to like Azrael.

"Would it help if you imagined that it was spelled B-A-L-E, like a bale of hay?" she asked. "Or perhaps B-A-I-L? It doesn't _have_ to stand for a demon, after all. It's a pretty versatile name."

"I shall consider it," Azrael said. "You had better wake him now. I see your friends coming back."

Saiya leaned down to place a kiss on the end of Baal's nose. When she received only a muffled groan in response, she blew gently on his eyelids, and then tickled him under the chin. He swatted her hand away with surprising coordination for someone who had just been roused from a deep slumber.

"Go 'way, Saiya," he mumbled. "I was having a really good dream."

"Was it about killing Diablo?" she asked. He jerked upright, nearly bashing their foreheads together, and glanced around as if he'd temporarily forgotten where they were.

"Fuck, how long was I out? Oh, Father, you're back. What's going on?"

"We are preparing for the final battle," Azrael replied. "Auriel and Tyrael have yet to return, but we can afford to wait no longer. As soon as you are ready, I will lead you to the Silver Spire."

The four Nephalem exchanged looks. Saiya said, "We're about to face the Lord of Terror, right? Let's show the bastard something to be afraid of."

"Damn straight!" Baal laughed. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

"Yeah, no shit," said Caesar. "I still remember that pathetic speech you gave before we went into Arreat. Freja completely one-upped you on that one."

"We will kick his ass," Ghor announced, to the great shock of her companions. It was the first time Saiya had heard anything even remotely like a curse from her.

"You swore!" she said.

Ghor shrugged. "I was getting into the spirit of it."

"Mortals never cease to amaze me," said Azrael, though he sounded almost admiring. "You face death and darkness every day, and yet you still find the courage to move forward. Remarkable."

"We couldn't do it without each other," Saiya said. "One person alone may be weak, but together, we're incredibly strong. And _that's_ why we're going to win: because we're not just fighting for ourselves, but for everyone. A being like Diablo could never understand that."

"Not many do," replied Azrael, and Saiya was unsure whether he was speaking of demons in general, or of humanity, or even of the angels. Perhaps, she thought, he meant all of them.

The streets of Heaven were empty as they walked through them, but Diablo had left his mark upon the shining city, and the destruction that he had wrought would not easily be repaired. Everything was crumbling, the delicate infrastructure shattered into pieces; the bodies of the fallen littered the ground; and everywhere, foul black corruption spread like a mold. Saiya mourned for this place of beauty and peace, as remote from the grit of the human world below as were the stars in the sky.

At last they came to a great bridge supported by pillars that disappeared into the clouds below. Ahead of them was the vast bulk of the spire, jutting up so far that the peak was lost to sight.

As they began to cross the bridge, the sound of fighting erupted from inside the building. With an exclamation of dismay, Azrael took to his wings, the others sprinting behind him. Passing beneath the great arch of the gateway, they saw a small group of angels, Eremiel among them, surrounded by enormous demons with skeletal wings.

Baal drew his bows, but before he could fire a single bolt, there was a flash of golden light, and the demons disintegrated into ash. Saiya stopped dead in her tracks, gaping in amazement. The angel that stood before them was like no other she had seen. He was taller and more powerfully built even than Tyrael. His armor shone like the sun, and his wings were made of fire. In his hand, he held an exquisite spear with a dual blade at the tip.

Azrael went down on one knee, his hooded head bowed. "Imperius," he said.

"Uh-oh," Saiya whispered. "Now we're in trouble." Beside her, Baal subtly shifted his position so that he was standing in front of Caesar, blocking the wizard from view.

"What is the meaning of this treachery, Azrael?" growled Imperius. "Is it not enough to have demons polluting our halls? Must we play host to human children as well?"

"They are no ordinary mortals," Azrael said. "One of them is my son, and the others-"

"I know who they are, just as I know that you have done your best to conceal them from me. By what right do they set foot in _my_ domain?"

"By right of blood, and by right of battle."

Imperius thrust his spear forward, the point stopping just short of Azrael's face. "I recognize neither!" he hissed. "You dare speak of the right of battle to me, the Aspect of Valor? I have often given you freedom to speak your mind, Azrael, but you go too far. As for the right of blood, you know my dislike for the practice of breeding with humans. Such progeny does not deserve to stand in this holy place. Take them away, back to where they belong, before I decide to end their worthless lives."

Saiya gritted her teeth, her blood boiling with fury. No wonder the other angels had tried to keep them away from Imperius! She couldn't for the life of her understand how they put up with taking orders from such a colossal asshole.

"Imperius, I beg you, give them a chance," Eremiel pleaded, stepping forward to stand in front of her leader. He lowered his spear slightly.

"One of these is yours, Eremiel?"

"Yes," she replied, wings fluttering. "My daughter, Saiya. She has fought very hard to come this far, and has sacrificed much.

"No doubt," he said dismissively, "but that changes nothing. If you send her to face Diablo, you send her to her death. In this new incarnation, he is a force beyond any foe save perhaps myself."

"Funny," said Baal. "I heard he kinda fucked you up."

Imperius moved so quickly that he was only a blur as he swooped towards the Hunter, lifting him by his throat. "Insolent boy," he said. "I shall teach you to respect your betters."

"No!" Azrael cried. "Don't hurt him!"

Saiya was about to attack, but Caesar acted first. Frost crept up Imperius' arm, infiltrating the gaps in his armor. With a snarl, he dropped Baal. Caesar swallowed hard as the archangel's shadowy face turned to look at him, but he stood his ground.

"You," Imperius ground out, his voice as harsh as steel on stone. "Don't think I've forgotten about your presence here. Of all mortals, there is none I despise quite so much as you, kin-slayer. I swear that I shall have my vengeance for Glorius ere you depart this place."

"Over my dead body!" Saiya snapped, raising her fists threateningly.

Imperius glanced towards her. "Do not tempt me."

"We will not permit you to harm them," said Eremiel. " _Any_ of them. They are here at our bequest, to save us if they can. Punish _us_ , if you wish, but not our children."

"Silence!" Imperius roared. Eremiel cowered before the might of his voice, which shook the air like thunder. "I did not expect you to defy me as well. This is Tyrael's fault. His predilection for mankind has encouraged others among our brethren to fall into sin. I should have put a stop to it long ago."

"Where is Tyrael?" Azrael asked quietly. Receiving no immediate answer, he said, "Imperius, what have you done?"

"He would not listen to me."

" _What have you done?"_

"He is my brother no longer. When he gave up his wings and chose a mortal life, he betrayed us all."

"No," Azrael groaned. "You didn't kill him … you _couldn't_ have killed him. Not Tyrael."

"I _could_ have," said Imperius, "but for the sake of our long friendship, I did not. But he would not listen to me, and so I locked him away until he is capable of reason. Auriel is with him. And if you do not get these humans out of my sight at once, you will join them, Azrael."

For a moment, Saiya was afraid that Azrael would submit. But then he spread his wings to their full extent, soaring above Imperius. A bow of light appeared in his hand.

"Alem!" he cried. "Go! We will hold him here! Hurry!"

Baal grabbed Saiya's hand, and together they ran past the cluster of angels and up the stairwell at the far side of the room, Caesar and Ghor close behind them. They kept going until they could no longer hear the sound of Imperius' voice raised in fury.

"Gods above," Caesar gasped, leaning against a wall to catch his breath. "What is his problem, anyway? Why does he hate us so much? I mean, I understand his grudge against _me_ , but the rest of you have nothing to do with that."

"Who knows," said Saiya, "but I can tell you one thing. If he hurts my mother, I'll make him pay."

"I'll help you," Baal promised, "but we have to deal with Diablo first."

The space they were in was very large, and almost pitch black, in severe contrast with the rest of the Heavens. Reddish lights glowed deep down in the void below the walkway they stood on, and high over their heads, but the path ahead was nothing more than a dim outline. Unfortunately, they had left their lanterns behind in Bastion's Keep, and had no way of lighting torches.

"Guess we're on our own now," Caesar said. "Nothing to do but press forward."

They had gone only a little way when a ghostly figure appeared directly in front of them, blocking their path. Baal drew in a sharp breath; it was Leah.

"How does it feel," she asked, "knowing that you were responsible for my death?"

"Go away!" the Hunter said harshly. "You're not real."

"Oh, you're wrong," she purred. "I'm quite real. You see, Nephalem, _I'm_ what remains when a human being dies cursing someone they once loved. You did this to me. You made me into what I am. You promised to protect me, and instead you stood and watched as Adria offered my body as a sacrifice to bring Diablo into this world."

"I tried to save you!" Baal yelled. "There was nothing I could do!"

Saiya grabbed his arm. "This is a demon, taking Leah's shape," she said. "Don't listen to anything it says."

"Very perceptive," Leah sneered. "That doesn't make my words any less true. Baal knows what I'm talking about. That evening on the battlements, when I told you I was afraid … do you remember what you said to me? 'As long as I draw breath, no demon will ever hurt you.' You're still breathing, Baal, and I'm dead."

"Shut _up_ ," he snarled, aiming Thaqib at the apparition's chest. His hand was shaking so badly that the crossbow's barrel wavered back at forth. He pulled the trigger, and Leah's shape vanished like mist in the sunlight, leaving behind only a mocking laugh.

"So that's the game they're going to play," remarked Caesar. "If they can't kill us with brute force, they'll wear down our emotions, try to break us apart."

There was no reply from Baal, save for labored gasps. He sounded as though he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Saiya said, "Okay, that was obviously meant to target Baal specifically, so we can assume that if there are more, they'll go after us as well. I think it's better if we try to ignore them."

"Like we did with Cydaea, when she was harassing us," Caesar added helpfully. Baal grunted.

"There is a story in my village," said Ghor. "A young girl was walking alone at night and encountered an evil spirit that wanted to possess her. But the girl's grandfather was a wise man, and had told her how to deal with spirits. And so she said to it, 'If you can make me tell you my name with three questions, then I will give you my soul. I will not tell you a lie. But if you cannot find out my name after three questions, you must let me go.' The spirit agreed, and the first question that it asked was naturally, 'What is your name?' The girl said, 'The same as my mother's name.' 'What is your mother's name?' the spirit asked next. The girl replied, 'It is the same as mine.' The spirit, growing frustrated, said, 'Then what is the name that you both share?' But the clever girl only said, 'It is the name that my grandfather gave us.' The spirit was very angry at this, but it was forced to let her go, since she had not broken the terms of their deal."

Saiya pondered this anecdote as they continued deeper into the Spire. Ghor never said anything without purpose, but she could not for the life of her understand what meaning she was supposed to derive from the whimsical tale. Was it blatant advice on how to talk to spirits? Or was there some more subtle connotation that she wasn't seeing? Or perhaps the story wasn't directed to her at all, but meant for Baal or Caesar?

Presently they came to a massive circular room filled with pillars in groups of four. A reddish, glowing liquid poured from the ceiling into great basins at the foot of the pillars, illuminating the area with a sickly glow.

"Is it supposed to look like that?" Caesar asked. "I've noticed a general color scheme in this place of blue and gold."

Baal, glancing up, made a noise of revulsion. The others followed his gaze, and what they saw was horrifying. The broken, twisted bodies of angels were hanging at the tops of the pillars, impaled on jagged spikes.

"It's blood," Saiya whispered. "They're bleeding into the fountain. Gods, that's sick."

"I think we found Imperial's army," said the Hunter. "Be careful. Whatever did this might still be around."

As if on cue, the ground suddenly shook beneath their feet. A massive demon emerged from the gloom ahead of them, supporting itself on six spindly legs that ended in huge circular chunks of bone. There were others behind it, lithe shadowy figures in dark robes.

"Stick to the edges of room, we'll try to skirt around them," Baal breathed, taking the lead. He didn't have to worry about being stealthy, since his spelled boots made no noise, but the others crept in his wake, fearing that every step would be the one to alert their foes.

They had made it most of the way towards their destination – a spiral staircase that curved precariously towards the next level – when one of the cloaked monsters spotted them and let out an ear-splitting shriek. In an instant, the whole horde was converging on them.

"Run!" Baal shouted. "Caesar, give us some cover!"

The air around them noticeably cooled, and snowflakes began to swirl in a quickening wind. Saiya saw the wizard grab hold of Baal's sleeve so as not to lose him in the blizzard, and she did the same to Ghor, holding the other woman's hand tightly as they ran for the stairs. They did not look back.

* * *

 **So, what did you all think? I know that I'm omitting quite a bit here, including some boss battles (I haven't decided yet whether to include Izual or not) but let's face it: Heaven is ... kinda boring. You're only there to fight Diablo, after all, but you have to do a bunch of shit for the angels first. I felt that at this point, including things like the Hellrifts would only bog down the narrative flow. But if you feel like I'm skipping too much, let me know and I'll try to slow down a bit. :)  
**


	19. 19 - The Betrayer

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Do you realize that you have the most beautiful face  
Do you realize we're floating in space  
Do you realize that happiness makes you cry  
Do you realize everyone you know someday will die"  
\- Ursine Vulpine  
"Do You Realize"_

* * *

 **Hey, everyone! I hope no one gave up on me ... :/ I realize that I made you all wait an insanely long time for this update, and I'm really sorry. There were a bunch of factors, but disinterest wasn't one of them! I've been desperate to finish and post this for weeks, so I'm elated to finally be done with the damn thing. Please, please review and let me know that I haven't lost you guys' attention! :)**

 **Also, just a quick note, after very helpful feedback on the last chapter (sooo long ago, geez), I decided to compromise and include Izual, but for a minimal amount of time. Hope everyone enjoys the spin I put on it!**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: The Betrayer

Nearing the next level of the tower, the Nephalem heard an ear-splitting crack from above them, and lunged forward just in time to avoid a pillar that fell from above, shearing through the stairs behind them.

"Well," Baal panted. "That won't stop the ones with wings, but at least the big fuckers won't be following us anymore."

"Thank the gods," Saiya exclaimed. "Is everyone okay?"

"For now, yes," said Caesar. "Don't expect any more of those blizzards out of me, though."

Baal rolled his eyes. "Why don't you let up on the current one, if it's such a drain? I'm freeing my ass off here."

"I stopped casting a while ago," the wizard replied.

"Then why is it still so cold?"

And indeed it was, Saiya realized, letting out a long breath and watching it cloud the air. Ghor shivered, vigorously rubbing her bare arms to warm the skin.

"I don't know," Caesar said, frowning. "It isn't _my_ magic that's causing this. Shall we look and see what we're dealing with?"

"Cautiously," said Baal. He took the lead, crossbows at the ready. The others followed in a tight group after him, as much to preserve their fading warmth as for safety.

At the top of the stairs was a large circular platform, ringed with spikes of ice that formed a sort of barrier. The place appeared deserted, but the atmosphere was thick with demonic energy.

"Great," Baal muttered. "Something else to waste our time."

"You!" roared a voice. "You are the companions of Tyrael, are you not? The self-proclaimed saviors of Sanctuary?"

"Who wants to know?" yelled Saiya.

A maniacal laugh filled the air, causing the ice crystals to ring eerily. "You address Izual."

"Izual?" Baal cocked his head to one side. "Never heard of you! You can't be very important."

"My name has been expunged from the history of your world," said the voice. "But Tyrael, were he here, could have told you of me. I was once his favored lieutenant, most trusted of all his compatriots."

"You're an angel?" said Caesar.

Mist swirled before them, and inside it, a being took shape. It was similar to that of an angel, but horribly distorted and broken, the limbs and back bent at unnatural angles, the once-glorious wings stripped of all life and color. But the creature's eyes were most haunting of all: empty holes in a twisted face, oozing twin streams of light that trailed down wasted cheeks. Saiya was unsure if the liquid was blood or tears, or perhaps both, but the sight of it kindled a bizarre mixture of horror and sympathy in her chest.

"An angel," said Izual. "Yes. This ruined shell you see here before you is what happens when one of my kind is untrue to their aspect. I was once the Angel of Loyalty. I served Tyrael in countless battles, and kept his secrets faithfully. But then I was captured by Diablo. For years, his demons tortured me, bit by bit taking from me everything that I knew, everything that I was. In the end, I told them all."

"If that's true," said Baal, "then why are you serving them now? Join us, and redeem yourself."

Izual threw back his head and howled. "There is no redemption for me, Child of Heaven. I do not serve Diablo or any of his kind. I crawl in their wake, feeding on the scraps they have left behind, subsisting on the remnants of their hatred. I came here to find Tyrael and kill him if I can. But since he's not here, I suppose that _you_ will have to do instead."

Small stars of ice began to form in the air around them, glittering in the light. Without warning, they exploded outwards in a blast of frost. Baal and Caesar were frozen where they stood, but the wizard managed at the last second to put a protective shell of his own ice magic around both of the women.

"Ghor!" Saiya cried. "You're going to have to let me help you with your mana! It's the only way we can win this battle!"

Ghor shook her head almost frantically. "No! Not as long as that darkness is within you. That would be more dangerous than simply fighting him."

Izual was already storming towards them, a crystalline sword in his hands. The blade, red in the sun's glow, was as jagged and cruel as flame. He raised it high above Caesar's immobile body.

"Shit!" Saiya growled, reaching for the bell. The tone seemed feeble and sluggish in response to her call, but it knocked Izual back. He twisted his head around to stare at her with his eerily blank gaze.

"Ghor!" the young monk hissed desperately. "I don't care _what_ you have to summon, just do it!"

"On your head be it," muttered Ghor, sounding as near to irritation as Saiya had ever heard her. A moment later, her hand landed on Saiya's shoulder, and with a jarring transition from reality to the spirit world, she was standing before the gates to Ghor's mana once again. She wrenched them wide open.

The water beyond surged past her in a great wave, as if it was eager to be reunited with its mistress. The flood was far more powerful that Saiya had anticipated, and it took all her strength of will not to be borne away by it and drowned. With a sick feeling, she knew that it was far too much, that she was doing a terrible job of controlling it, and that Ghor was probably suffering as a result. But try as she might, she couldn't force the gates closed.

" _Enough!"_ The cry was powerful enough to be heard even over the roaring tide. Every nerve in Saiya's body flared in pain, and she couldn't restrain a scream. Then she was falling, landing hard on her back on a cold surface. Opening her eyes, she saw coiled above her a shadowy something that defied all description. Ever morphing, it surged out in places before retracting again, smooth curves shifting into wicked spines, boils swelling and splitting apart to form rifts. There were no recognizable body parts, neither head nor tail nor limbs. The creature, whatever it was, made no sound as it lurched forward, spilling itself over the surface of the platform.

"What the _fuck_?" whispered Baal beside her. Startled, Saiya whipped around to stare at him. She had not noticed his release from Izual's magic. Caesar was free as well, his horrified eyes fixed on the demented being before him.

"What have you done to Ghor?" he gasped.

"Nothing!" Saiya protested. "I helped her summon, that's all." But her heart failed as she glanced around and could see no sign of the witch doctor.

"We need to get away from here right now," said Baal, face and voice grim.

"I'm not leaving her!" Caesar spat.

Baal grabbed him by the collar of his coat and dragged him forward until their noses were nearly touching. "You don't have a choice. Whatever that thing is, it _isn't_ Ghor. And when it's done with Izual, it's going to turn on us next."

Caesar clenched his teeth, angry tears filling his eyes. He looked past Baal's shoulder, meeting Saiya's stricken gaze and holding it for a long moment, then glanced back at the shapeless mass of chaos, which had wrapped itself around Izual and was devouring him. Placing his hands flat on Baal's chest, he gently shoved the Hunter away.

"Go," he said. "I'll catch up with you later."

"Don't be stupid," Baal growled. "We need your help against Diablo."

Caesar's gaze flitted to Saiya once more, and then he regretfully shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "I can't leave her. Not like this. I'll do my very best to …" His voice dropped down to a near whisper. "Finish it quickly."

A sickening suspicion was beginning to creep across Saiya's mind. "Finish what?" she asked. "Caesar, what are you going to do?" And then, silently, _What have_ I _done?_

Baal said, "She asked me to do the same, you know. In Caldeum, after the fight with Belial, when she went into the spirit realm to get you back. This is what she would want."

"I know," replied the wizard, his voice ragged. "I know."

An anguished little moan escaped from Saiya's throat, and her hands clutched convulsively at the sleeve of Caesar's coat. "I'm sorry," she choked. "I'm so, _so_ sorry. I never meant to …"

He nodded, turned away, gathered a cloud of frost in the palm of his left hand. Slowly, painfully, he advanced towards the thing that had taken possession of his friend. Saiya felt Baal pulling on her arm, trying to get her to follow him, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the horror unfolding before her. Guilt ate into her heart, vile and corrosive. This was _her_ fault. Why hadn't she listened to what Ghor was trying to tell her? Instead, in her own foolish arrogance, she had forced the _sangoma_ into sacrificing herself. It was Deckard Cain all over again, but this time, far worse, because she was directly responsible.

"Saiya, come _on_ ," Baal urged, nearly unbalancing her with a forceful tug. "We have to go! Diablo may have reached the Arch by now."

"Right. Yes." But her feet refused to move. The chaos-thing had finished with Izual and was now rounding to face Caesar (if a creature with no head or eyes could be said to 'face' anything). She watched a sword of ice, deadly sharp, form in his hand and felt sick to her stomach.

Light split the constant clouds hanging low over their heads, concentrating into a brilliant beam that arced down to alight on the platform. It solidified into two distinct forms, instantly recognizable as Tyrael and Auriel. The two angels seemed to understand the situation without having to be told. Tyrael lifted his sword, holding it outstretched, parallel to the ground.

"You are not welcome here, other-worlder," he boomed, deep voice splitting the sky like thunder. "Return to the land from whence you came."

A dry, sibilant hissing emanated from the creature's formless bulk. It seemed defiant, thrashing to and fro. Tyrael's fingers clenched on the hilt of his weapon, and a white glow began to pulse forth from the blade. The warmth of it banished the lingering chill from the air.

"What's he doing?" muttered Caesar, pacing in agitation. "If he hurts Ghor …"

"He's trying to _help_ her, jackass," said Baal.

" _Abeo!"_ roared Tyrael, striding forward to meet his foe head-on. For a terrifying instant, it surged forward to surround him, cloaking him in darkness. Then it split, torn asunder by the force of his energy. It was, Saiya thought, as if the sun had risen in the middle of the night. Momentarily blinded, she was forced to shield her eyes.

When the stars cleared from her vision, Tyrael was standing straight and tall in the center of the platform, Ghor's limp form cradled to his chest. Caesar dashed forward to grab her hand, pressing it to his face.

"Is she alright?" Baal called.

It seemed like an eternity before Caesar answered, seconds stretched out of proportion. Then he said, in a voice choked with relief, "She's alive. Yeah."

"I will care for her," said Auriel, holding out her arms. Tyrael passed his precious burden over. The _sangoma's_ face, peaceful in repose, disappeared behind a veil of shimmering wings.

"How did you get here?" Baal asked Tyrael. "We thought that Imperius captured you."

"So he did," the angel replied. "We were freed by Itherael. He asked me to tell you that although he cannot read your future, he believes in his heart that you will be victorious."

"That's nice," said Baal, only half-sarcastic. "I'm glad _someone_ has faith in us."

"What about our parents?" Saiya demanded, clenching her hands to stop them from shaking. "They fought Imperius so that we could get away. He … he wanted to kill us."

"Specifically me," Caesar interjected.

Tyrael sighed. "Yes, I heard. Azrael and the others have him contained for the moment, but it is taking all of their strength to do so."

"Another reason to hurry," Baal said.

"I will accompany you," said Tyrael, "but give me a moment." Laboriously, he knelt on the ground, beside what Saiya had mistaken for a patch of quivering sunlight. Now, looking closer, she saw that it was in the vague shape of a human being. This, she realized with a jolt, was an angel stripped of its armor and robes.

"Izual," Tyrael murmured, a look of intense sorrow clouding his blunt features. He reached out and laid his hand where the head would be, if the light had corporeal form.

There was a rasping exhale, barely audible. "Tyrael … at last."

"Sleep, my old friend," said Tyrael. "You will awaken again as a new aspect, your sins forgotten."

" _My_ sins? What of _yours_ , Tyrael? You … abandoned me. Left me to … die."

"I thought you had!" cried Tyrael, his voice breaking. "Death means nothing to our kind. I waited for you, Izual. Every lightsong, I stood before the Arch and watched for your return, but you never came. Why did you cling to your old life?"

Rivulets of liquid light were running from Izual's face, forming pools on the cold stone. When he spoke, every word emerged as a tormented hiss. "Would … have … forgotten … you."

The glow of his body, unbearably bright at first, was beginning to fade and flicker. Tyrael clutched vainly at him, but his fingers passed through Izual's flesh as if it was water, and came out coated in fine golden dust.

Izual was gone.

Tyrael got slowly to his feet, shoulders bowed and eyes tightly closed. The three Nephalem said nothing, letting him grieve in silence. After a moment, he mastered himself and turned towards them.

"Come," he said. "We must finish this."

They left Auriel and Ghor on the platform and continued along the narrow bridge that led to the next section of the Spire. Tyrael took the lead with long strides, the others in a cluster behind him. Saiya, walking slightly behind the men, didn't miss the subtle pat of Baal's hand on Caesar's shoulder, and the whispered words, "She's gonna be fine, you'll see."

Evidently, it didn't escape Tyrael's notice either, for he said, "Baal speaks the truth. Auriel is the most skilled healer in all of Heaven."

"Thanks," said Caesar, sounding as if he genuinely meant it. Saiya felt a burst of pride for the way in which he seemed to have overcome his prejudice against angels, at least to the extent of being able to differentiating friend from foe. He might never _like_ Tyrael, but at least he was no longer cringing every time they occupied the same room.

The halls on the upper level were empty, almost disturbingly so, though the wreckage of battle remained. In the near darkness, the corpses were visible only as outlines, vague shapes without definition. Tyrael gazed straight ahead, refusing to so much as glance at the mangled bodies of his brethren, and Saiya did her best to emulate him. She was not physically in any pain, but her mind felt fuzzy and somewhat disconnected from what was going on around her – hardly desirable given the challenge that awaited them. It was more than simple exhaustion, she thought, although she hadn't slept since the night Lyndon died, gods only knew how many hours before. Time had little meaning in the celestial city, where the light was always golden and soft. No, what afflicted her was mental and emotional fatigue from the constant stress she'd been subjected to without reprieve. What she really needed was a long meditation, to piece her shattered psyche back together, but she could hardly stop the group in its tracks so she could sit down and think for an hour.

Then again, did she really need to? The head monk (her _father,_ she remembered with a sharp thrill of love and loss) had often wandered around the temple grounds in the early morning, chanting quietly to himself. Surely that was a form of meditation, if not quite as restful as the ordinary method. And as there was little else to hold her attention at the moment, it seemed worth a try. She fixed Baal's position and pace relative to hers in her mind, so that she wouldn't lag behind, and closed her eyes.

Immediately, she was assailed by a whirlwind of the pent-up emotions accrued over the last few days, which she'd had no chance to vent. Intense sorrow as Lyndon's face filled her vision, eyes dimming as his life ebbed away. The mingled pain and joy of meeting her mother at last and learning the truth about her origins. Pity for Caesar, and a strange wistfulness for the future they might have had together, had things been different. Hot, potent rage at Imperius. Shame over what she'd unwittingly done to Ghor.

And more than any other, fear. For herself, for the child within her womb. For her friends. For Heaven itself. Fear that they would fail. Fear that they would succeed, but at a cost too high to be recovered from.

Dimly, Saiya realized that her cheeks were wet, tears streaming silently down them as if a dam had been torn down. She ignored it, grateful that she'd chosen the rearmost place, and concentrated on each emotion in turn, recognizing their validity and then releasing them into the atmosphere. She would continue to feel them for some while yet (some more than others … she didn't think she'd ever be able to forget the absolute horror that had clutched at her heart as she held Lyndon's body in her arms) but they were muted now, no longer dominating her. She was free to concentrate on more important matters, such as surviving the battle to come.

Her state of calm was rudely interrupted as Baal shoved her to one side, slamming her none too gently into a nearby pillar. A chunk of stone the size of her torso pulverized the floor where she'd just been standing. She blinked stupidly at it.

"The hell are you daydreaming about?" Baal snarled, giving her a light shake. "We're in hostile territory here!" His tone was laced with anger, but his wide eyes and heaving chest told a different story.

"Sorry," she muttered, embarrassed by her close call and the fact that he'd had to save her.

"S'okay, just don't do it again," he replied, releasing her and turning away.

"You should be more careful," said Caesar, tight-lipped, but his gaze was trained on the Hunter. "She's pregnant, you know."

Baal returned the look with his most withering glare. "Of course I know that, idiot. I'm the reason for it. But Saiya's not made of glass, _you know_."

"I'm fine," Saiya said. "Really. I'll be more careful in the future, I promise."

"Be wary," cautioned Tyrael. "We are not alone." He held his sword aloft, the blue glow of the blade shedding some much-needed light. It illuminated white columns, wreathed in smoke – and between them, ghostly, robed forms that were silently closing in all around them. The sight of them made Saiya's blood run cold, though she couldn't say what about them was so much more terrifying than any other of their kind.

"Shit," muttered Baal. "Not good. Run!"

"Follow me!" Tyrael cried, and took off at a speed which, given his size, was frankly astonishing. Saiya followed after him without hesitation, trusting that Baal and Caesar would do the same. If it were not for the beacon of El'druin piercing the shadows ahead of her, she would have been lost in minutes. On and on she ran, until her legs and side burned and every breath was a knife in her lungs. Periodic glances over her shoulder informed her that the robed demons were continuing their soundless pursuit. Every so often, one of them would throw its hands upwards and bring a section of the ceiling crumbling down on their heads.

And then came Tyrael's shout from the darkness ahead, "Nephalem! We have reached the Arch!"

Saiya skidded to a halt, pressing a palm flat to her chest to ease the pounding of her heart. In front of them was a small circular platform with a strange contraption in the center of it, resembling the bud of a lotus blossom if it were constructed of silver and sunlight.

"This?" exclaimed Caesar, his tone disbelieving.

"Above us," Tyrael panted. "The portal in the center will convey you if you touch it. You must hurry – he is there already. I can feel his foul presence, spreading corruption wherever he walks."

Baal and Caesar were already striding towards the light-bud. Saiya started to follow them, then stopped, realizing that Tyrael had turned his back and was standing with his sword point against the floor, both palms resting on the crosstrees.

"What are you doing?" she said. "You're coming with us, aren't you?"

A brief shake of his bald head. "I will remain here and keep the way closed behind you."

She understood then. Peter Rumford might well have said the same to the people of Wortham as he shut the door to the church basement and gave his life to protect it. She reached up to clasp Tyrael's shoulder.

"We _will_ save your people," she murmured. "I swear it."

As she stepped onto the platform beside Baal and stretched out a hand to touch the portal, Tyrael's answering words echoed in her ears: "All of Heaven fights with you, my friends. Remember that."

A warm white glow enveloped her with the pleasant sensation of sinking into a bath. When her vision cleared, she found herself facing a bridge lined with enormous statues of angelic beings, all identical yet each somehow subtly different. Far below, the rest of the city spread out in a great circle, its grandeur undisguised by the haze of smoke clouding the air. Ahead of them was the Crystal Arch, twin crescents soaring far above their heads, shining with an inner brilliance.

"It's … beautiful," Caesar gasped. Saiya caught a glimpse at his face, grey eyes alight with wonder, mouth slightly open. This, she thought, was how he must have looked as a young boy, learning to control his magic. Something deep in her heart jerked a little, and she felt the sudden, inexplicable need to memorize every feature.

"Yeah," Baal replied. "Sure is. Done gawping, mage? We've got a Great Evil to eviscerate."

Caesar grinned, and the spell was broken. "I think you're getting better at this whole pre-battle pep talk thing, Baal. You didn't even tell us that we're probably all going to die."

Saiya snorted. A sort of exuberant giddiness was sprouting tendrils in her stomach, twisting around her guts. She felt as though she weighed nothing at all. "Guys, come on. We're about to fight the Lord of Terror with broken weapons, exhausted bodies, and dry reserves of magic. Just the three of us. Of course we're going to win!"

"That's my girl," said Baal. His gaze rested on her for a single moment, but it was enough to warm her to the core. Then he drew his crossbows, cocking them to fire with an easy slide. "Let's go send his ass back to Hell."

One of the statues fell as they passed it, decoupling from its base with a sharp crack and toppling backwards into the empty gulf behind it. Saiya wondered if it would land somewhere on the crystalline streets below, or whether it would continue to fall, gaining speed, until it crashed to earth like a meteorite.

Her hands tightened on the worn handles of her spiked knuckles, which she had yet to repair after the fight with Rakanoth. The one on the right was missing its blade, giving her barely an inch of shorn-off metal to work with. It was certainly a handicap, depriving her both of reach and part of her ability to inflict damage. But hell, she was good at improvising. She'd come up with something.

Together, the three Nephalem ascended the shallow stairs to the diamond-shaped platform directly under the Arch, and got their first sight of Diablo himself.

He had shed Leah's skin, by choice or because he was forced out of it, and he was smaller than Saiya had imagined. But even though he was less impressive to look at than Belial or Azmodan, he nevertheless projected an aura that was far more intimidating. His body was surprisingly slender, almost feminine in its shape, and every joint was guarded by wicked horns. There was a blade-like protrusion of black bone on each forearm, the points of which were deadly sharp. His tail, as well, Saiya marked as a weapon to be wary of. It was extremely long and flexile, tipped with a cluster of spines.

He was standing with his back to them, head tilted up as if he was contemplating the overhanging Arch. But as they approached, he spun around, and they were confronted with a burning, skull-like face, the eyes slivers of hellfire, each fang backlit by an inferno.

"Humans," hissed Diablo, "are so annoyingly _persistent_. What do you hope to achieve by confronting me?"

"If you had half a brain, you'd know that already," Baal replied, his voice and posture reflecting confidence that Saiya was fairly sure he didn't feel.

The demon smirked – or at least, his fleshless mouth stretched a little wider. "Tyrael has filled your heads with idealistic nonsense about good and evil. The only thing that matters in this world is power, and the strength to seize it, as I am doing now. I have waited eons for this moment. To see Imperius, mightiest of the angels, crumpled at my feet like an old woman without her cane. To see the shining city torn down by my minions. And you think you can stop me? _You?_ The pathetic half-children of weak mortals? Think again!"

The only warning they got that an attack was imminent was the floor, which bubbled and blackened beneath their feet. Saiya jumped backwards just in time to avoid several claws of jointed bone that speared up out of the ground, tips meeting to form a tight cage. Baal had escaped as well, but Caesar hadn't been quick enough.

Seeing the Great Evil turn towards the trapped wizard, Saiya released a hasty bell meant to be a distraction, not even bothering to aim properly. It glanced harmlessly off of Diablo's armored shoulder, but at least it bought Caesar enough time to freeze and shatter the prison that held him.

Meanwhile, Baal had opened fire, picking his shots more carefully than he would have if there was no need to conserve arrows. But his quivers were dangerously low, and Saiya didn't want to contemplate what would happen if he ran out and was forced to use his knife.

By unspoken agreement, they spread out in a natural triangle formation, with their foe in the center. As he advanced to attack one of the three, that person gave way and the other two closed in, so that they maintained their distance, careful neither to cluster together nor become entirely separated. Saiya, who unlike her companions did not have the advantage of projectile weapons, felt that this strategy rendered her somewhat useless, but she made up for it by trying to draw the bulk of Diablo's attention.

It was working beautifully, until the demon brought his taloned foot crashing down and sent a wave of fire rippling outwards. There was no easy way to avoid it; Saiya and Caesar were able to erect shield around themselves, one of holy energy and one of magical ice, which prevented the worst of the damage, and Baal tried to leap over it. He was mostly successful, though his sleeve caught fire and he was forced to stop and pat it out.

Unfortunately, the break in their concentration gave Diablo the opening that he needed to close in on Saiya. She ducked under a sweep of his tail, only to find herself facing a thrust from the bone-sword on his arm. There was no dodging. She parried the blow with both sets of knuckles and was knocked flat, her arms going numb, the breath deserting her lungs in a harsh gasp.

Diablo immediately raised his foot, preparing to stomp on her midsection. She rolled to the left, maintaining enough presence of mind to slash at his ankle. The edge of her blade scraped harmlessly across his scales.

Then, improbably, the Lord of Terror lurched forward, staggering as if smote from behind. There was a black-feathered bolt protruding from his shoulder – the last in Baal's quiver. Saiya scrambled backwards as her enemy whipped around, hissing in fury at the one who had dared to wound him. Catching a glimpse of the Hunter's face, however, Saiya had to admit that at the moment, he was far more terrifying than the demon lord they were fighting.

His teeth were bared in a feral snarl which emphasized the animal sharpness of his canines, and his eyes blazed brighter than she had ever seen before. Pointing his empty crossbow at Diablo, he snarled, "Stay the fuck away from my woman!"

A primal thrill jolted through Saiya's stomach at the possessiveness in his voice, and from the rush of heat in her cheeks, they had probably gone bright red. She struggled to banish her sudden and entirely inappropriate arousal, realizing that any distraction on the battlefield would surely get her killed. But afterwards … well, she wouldn't complain if he used that tone in the bedroom.

Diablo was storming towards Baal now, but an excellently-timed shard of ice from Caesar pierced the side of his neck. It didn't penetrate very far through the thick scales, but the frost that radiated outwards from the point of impact made it difficult for the demon to turn his head. He reached up and pulled it out with deliberate slowness, as if he wanted to demonstrate how little trouble their attacks were causing him.

Meanwhile, an idea had occurred to Saiya. With Diablo's back to her, she had crossed the arena to where Baal stood, and held out her hand for his favorite bow. He gave it to her without question, his gaze burning holes in her as she worked as quickly and quietly as she could, whispering a mantra. When she returned the weapon, it had been blessed with a spell which, when he fired it, would (she hoped) produce a bolt of holy energy. It was a short-term solution, but with any luck it might buy them enough time to figure out if their foe had a weakness.

 _If only our parents were here,_ she thought ruefully. _Or any of the angels, really. It doesn't seem fair that we have to do this on our own. If Imperius wasn't such a self-centered asshole …_

But her thoughts were interrupted by a sinister laugh that rumbled out of Diablo's crimson chest, reverberating in her bones.

"I am impressed, Nephalem," he growled. "It seems that I underestimated you. Will you not-"

"Join your cause?" Baal cut in sarcastically. "No thanks. Not interested. And if you call me a foolish boy, I swear to all the gods that I will put an arrow in your damn eye."

Diablo sneered, raising his hands. "If that is your answer," he said, "then let us see how you fare in _my_ realm."

There was a swirling vortex around him, growing larger by the second until it threatened to engulf the entire platform. At first Saiya had the wild hope that perhaps Caesar was using his black hole, and that they were about to be victorious. But the startled look on the wizard's face made it clear that it was none of his doing.

"Get back!" he cried, retreating until his heels hung off the edge and he could go no further. There was no time to reach him; she could have warped, but that would mean leaving Baal's side. The only thing she could do, in the moments before the cloud swept them away, was grab onto the hand of the man beside her and hang on for dear life.

* * *

 **I promise I had a legitimate reason for excluding Ghor! It wasn't easy, though ... :( What do you all think? I'd love to know! And I PROMISE the wait for the next one won't be nearly as long!**


	20. 20 - Terror

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Heaven**_

* * *

 _"Schattenkampf in Turm der Türme_  
 _Tanz der Teufel … der Tanz_  
 _Gedankenstürme_  
 _Die Zeit steht still_  
 _Zusammen gefangen in Turm bis das der Tod und scheidet."_

 ** _"Battle of shadows in the tower of towers_**  
 ** _Dance of the Devil … the dance_**  
 ** _A storm of thoughts_**  
 ** _Time stands still_**  
 ** _Together we will be caught in the tower until death separates us."_**  
 ** _\- E Nomine_**  
 ** _"Der Turm"_**

* * *

 **Only one more to go before we move on to Reaper of Souls. Please let me know what you think! You guys are all so awesome! :)**

* * *

Chapter Twenty: Terror

Baal's hand was as cold as frozen stone in hers. She squeezed his fingers tightly, trying to get her bearings. The place in which they found themselves was dark – not the natural darkness of night on Sanctuary, but a dead darkness, as though the very concept of light had never existed here. There was black stone beneath their feet, and black mist swirled around them, obscuring everything outside a radius of several feet. Bizarrely, Saiya had no trouble seeing the Hunter, though she had no idea where Caesar might be.

"You okay?" she asked.

There was no immediate reply. Saiya stepped back and peered up into his face, her tentative smile dropping as she took in his expression: stiff and wooden, his eyes like molten steel, the corners of his lips lifted in a slight snarl. He was looking directly at her, but didn't seem to recognize her.

"Baal?" she murmured, alarmed. "What's-"

His hand snapped shut around her throat, fingers like a trap digging painfully into the tendons on either side of her neck. Saiya choked and spluttered, one hand instinctively grabbing at his wrist while the other slapped him soundly across the face, not hard enough to do real damage, but sharp and stinging, meant to snap him out of whatever altered state he was in.

It had no effect. And yet this _was_ Baal, not some incubi wearing his face. He had not been out of her sight since Diablo had cast his spell over them; she hadn't even let go of his hand. Her only conclusion was that he had somehow been possessed. If she could knock him unconscious, like she'd done when Zoltun Kulle had taken over Caesar's body, then she might have a chance of returning him to normal.

With a skillful twist, she freed herself, though she knew her throat would bear the marks of his hand for some time. Maintaining her hold on his arm, she kicked him in the side. He doubled over, exposing the back of his head to her elbow.

Baal grunted harshly as the blow connected. She knew that she'd hit the right spot to knock him out, and was waiting for him to fall, and so she almost missed his hand as it swung in suddenly from outside her field of vision. A line of pain seared across her stomach, just below her breasts. He'd pulled out his knife.

 _He's trying to kill me!_ she thought dazedly, stumbling backwards with her palm clasped over the wound. Just a light scrape, thank the gods, but it could have been much worse. Whatever was wrong with him, he wasn't able to resist it; if he'd had even the slightest bit of control, he would never have gone for her belly.

"Snap out of it, Baal!" she pleaded. "I need you with me here!"

His only response was a feral growl as he fumbled for the crossbow at his waist. Saiya flipped away from him, strafing to the side. A hail of bolts constructed of pure shadow followed in her wake, disintegrating into smoke where they struck the ground.

This was so, _so_ bad. She couldn't outrun him forever, and as long as the hatred burned within him, those deadly arrows would never run out. She wished she knew the exact reason he was trying to kill her. Was it mind-control? Psychosis? Did he think _she_ was the enemy?

There was nothing for it but to stand and fight, but first she would have to disarm him. Thinking quickly, she dodged to the left before warping directly behind him and grabbing both his forearms, wrenching them behind his back and pinning them there. Baal snarled and thrashed, trying to free himself, but her grip was secure.

Not secure enough, as it turned out, to prevent him from pulling the trigger. The bow was held in an awkward position, sandwiched between their thighs with the barrel pointed down. Saiya yelped as a bolt raked along her calf, searing her flesh. She brought her knee up, knocking the weapon away before he could fire again.

"Damn it, Baal," she grumbled. "This _really_ isn't the time for you to completely lose your mind."

His shoulders, which had been heaving violently in his attempts to throw her off, suddenly stilled. Encouraged, she continued to talk, leaning forward so that her chest was pressed against his back and she could speak directly into his ear.

"Come on, love. It's _me,_ it's your Saiya. I don't know what Diablo did to you, but you're stronger than this. Don't let him win. Think of us, think of holding our child when it's born …"

He had relaxed almost completely, wrists limp in her grasp and head hanging down. Slowly, she released him, murmuring, "That's it, darling, that's right. You're alright now, aren't you?"

Quick as a whip, Baal spun around, hurling himself into her and sending them both crashing to the ground. The back of Saiya's head bounced off the stony ground, blurring her vision. A knife-blade dug into her throat, hard enough to draw blood. The slightest movement of Baal's hand would send it slicing right through skin and muscle.

"I've had enough of you, bitch," the Hunter hissed, eyes narrowed to crimson slits. "Following me around like a lost dog, making a nuisance of yourself. Ever since we met, I haven't had a moment's peace, you know that? I gave you so much, but you just wanted more and _more,_ never satisfied with anything. You're like a parasite, Saiya, a fucking leech that latched onto me, and you're sucking me dry. I never wanted you. I certainly don't want your fucking kid. I tried to get away from you, but you just wouldn't let me go."

There were tears running down her cheeks, dripping into her ears. "N-no," she choked. "I know you don't mean any of that. This is Diablo speaking, not you. I know that he's done something to you, Baal, twisted you somehow. But I'm not going to let it happen. I love you."

He brought his face down to hers, close enough to kiss. "Shut the fuck up. I've been waiting months for this."

"I love you," Saiya repeated, trying to pour every ounce of emotion in her body into the words. "I'm never gonna stop loving you. No matter what."

Baal grinned. It was ugly and cruel, a predatory leer that send shivers up her spine. "Oh yeah? Let's see how much you love me after _this_."

His right hand kept the knife pressed down on her windpipe, but his left moved to her chest and seized a handful of her robe, tearing at the thick fabric. Saiya bit through her lip to stop herself from screaming. It would do no good, she realized. Words weren't going to fix this. The most complex thing in her life – her relationship with Baal – had been cut down to a simple choice: him or her. She could submit, allow him to do as he pleased to her and then murder her and leave her body here to rot in the darkness, or …

Or she could save herself. Whatever the cost.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and reached for the bell.

Baal's eyes widened in surprise as the wave of holy energy slammed into him, lifting him completely off her. He landed on the ground several feet away. Saiya staggered upright on shaking legs and made her way over to him. His eyes were open, but they weren't looking at anything. Red had faded to sea-green.

"Baal?" she said. Crouching, she pushed his shoulder. His head lolled from side to side with the motion. When she tried carefully to lift him, it dropped back far further than it should have, and at a grotesquely unnatural tilt. She dropped him immediately, horrified, the weight of what she'd done beginning to settle in her stomach like a stone.

She had killed him.

No, she decided, shaking her head. No, that couldn't be right. He was fine, he had to be. This whole thing was some awful nightmare, and she'd wake up in their bed in Bastion's Keep, Lyndon still alive, Leah still alive, _Baal_ still alive.

"Get up," she insisted, grabbing his arm and pulling. His elbow joint, loosened by the blast of her bell, slipped easily out of its socket. Saiya gave up and laid the broken limb gingerly back down on his chest. "Sorry. That must have hurt. I didn't mean it to, really. Just get up, _please_. I hate this place and I want to go home." Her voice cracked a little on the last word. She didn't even know what _home_ meant anymore, except that it was all tied up with the man lying in front of her, and if he wasn't there, then she didn't much want to be either.

Staring at him, a memory flashed through her mind. She had been eight years old, playing with some girls from the village who had little wooden dolls, all the parts connected with pieces of string that, when pulled from the back, caused them to move in an almost lifelike fashion. One of the girls' younger brother had come along, taken her doll, and flung it against a rock. Some of the strings had snapped, leaving it partially dismembered. Even now, more than ten years later, she could still recall the girl's desperate cries as she'd clutched her ruined toy.

That's what Baal looked like now, she thought numbly: a doll whose strings had been cut. Abruptly, nausea overwhelmed her, and she heaved until she'd vomited up sour acid. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she got up and stumbled away into the surrounding mist. She had no clear idea of where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there; the destruction of Heaven, the battle against Diablo, and everything else along with it had faded into irrelevance, obscured by the horror of what she'd done to the man she loved.

A figure appeared off to her right, barely visible through the haze. It was oddly contorted, one shoulder much higher than the other, and it seemed to have more than the appropriate amount of limbs. Saiya backed away from it, confused and fearful, then remembered what lay behind her and instead stood stock still, hoping that the thing, which moved with an awkward, shuffling gait, would simply pass her by.

The head turned in her direction, glowing eyes piercing the gloom. A familiar voice said, "Saiya? Is that you?"

No. She couldn't handle this. Her mind felt like it was on the verge of shattering, and she was gripped by simultaneous urges to laugh and scream.

"Go away," she croaked. "I killed you already."

"What the hell are you talking about?" demanded the simulacrum of Baal. It took a few steps towards her, but stopped again when she shrieked, "No! Don't come near me!"

"Oh _shit_ ," it groaned. "Don't tell me that you've gone nuts too." It was a good replica, Saiya thought deliriously. Damn good, Diablo really nailed the vocal inflections, not to mention the way its free hand came up to rake through its hair. But as much as she ached for this to be the real Baal, she wouldn't be taken in. She would _not_ let her enemy play games with her until she was reduced to a quivering wreck in an asylum somewhere, babbling about shadows with red eyes.

Wait … free hand? The simulacrum was carrying something slung over its shoulder, something which it dumped rather unceremoniously on the ground so that it could reach out to her properly. A human body. Torn between curiosity and repulsion, she leaned in to get a better look, half-expecting it to be her own.

It was Caesar. And he was clearly dead, his jaw slack and the front of his coat dyed scarlet from a knife-wound in his chest.

"Wh-what?" she stammered, looking from the wizard to the false-Baal. There was blood splattered across his face. "Did you …?"

Baal looked like he might be sick. "Yeah. Didn't want to. It was sort of an accident. He tried to kill me first. Said something about how he was going to 'liberate you' from my 'evil influence' and starting shooting off icicles. I had my knife out anyway, in case I ran into Diablo, and when I tackled him to try and knock some sense into him, we ended up scuffling, and … well. _That_ happened." He gestured wordlessly to the corpse at his feet. "What about you, though? Are you okay? What happened to your neck?"

Saiya narrowed her eyes, thoughts racing. Was it possible that she had been mistaken, and that _this_ was the real Baal, while the one she had killed was the fake? He, too, had been assaulted by an irrational version his companion and forced to slay him. It might have been nothing more than a desperate wish on her part, but at the moment, she was willing to take whatever meager comfort she could find, even it if was wrenched away from her later.

Grabbing his hand, she dragged him back to where she had left the mangled body of the other Baal, ignoring his protests as Caesar was abandoned. When he saw his look-alike, he went silent, a frown creasing his eyebrows. Saiya could almost see his mind working through the same process that hers had just finished.

"Nice work," he said finally, nudging the cadaver's head with his toe and flinching a bit as the neck bones grated audibly. "I'm glad you got that out of your system before you actually ran into me."

"I thought it _was_ you," she mumbled. "I …"

Compassion settled over his face, and he looped an arm around her shoulders, crushing her tight to his side. "It's okay, _nuur il'-en._ It's all over now."

She sniffled, willing herself not to cry. "You said that – _he_ said … said that I was a p-parasite and that he'd never wanted me, or … or our child."

"Fuckhead," Baal snarled, kicking the lifeless simulacrum viciously in the ribs. "I'd never say shit like that. It's not true, Saiya, you know that, right? I love you more than anything in this whole damn world or any other. And even though I'm scared shitless about being a father, I'm honestly kind of excited about it too."

"Thanks," she replied, and turned her face into his shoulder, pressing trembling lips to the fabric of his vest and just letting him hold her for a moment until some of the tension had seeped out of her. "So … if I encountered a simulacrum of you, and you got one of Caesar …"

Baal was nodding along. "Then the real Caesar must be off somewhere, fighting-"

"Me," she finished. "Oh Ytar, that's really bad."

"We were both able to take ours out without too much problem," the Hunter pointed out. "I don't think they're nearly as powerful as we are."

"That's not my point," she retorted. "If he makes the same mistake that we did, and assumes that it's _me …_ I don't think he'll be able to kill it."

Baal scowled. "You killed the one you thought was me. Are you saying that the mage cares about you more?"

"No," she said, glaring at him. "I'm saying I nearly _didn't_ kill it, even when I thought I was going to die. If it hadn't been for the baby, I might not have had the strength to defend myself."

He opened and shut his mouth a few times before sound came out. "O-oh."

"And since Caesar doesn't have anyone but himself to worry about, and since he does love me regardless of whether any of us wants to admit it, I believe that if we don't find him _right now_ , there's a serious risk of him letting himself get murdered because he thinks he's saving my life. I don't want that. Do you?"

"No, of course not," Baal snapped. "I do care about the idiot, you know. So let's go save his useless ass." After a brief pause, he added, "Oh, and Saiya? If we get separated for some reason and I start acting weird when you see me again, do _not_ hesitate to bash my skull in, okay? You don't get to die because of me. Ever. You understand?"

She nodded, keeping a tight grip on his fingers as they set off in a random direction, shouting Caesar's name at the top of their lungs. There was absolutely no way she was ever letting him out of her sight again.

Fortunately, it didn't take them long to find the wizard. Less fortunately, someone else had found him first. He was sitting slumped on the ground, nose and lip bloodied, hair hanging loose about his face. His hat lay on the ground beside him. But what drew Saiya's attention was the perfect doppelganger of herself that stood nearby, frozen in a fighting stance.

"Oh," she said. "I see you found it already."

Caesar's head jerked up and he stared at them wordlessly, eyes wide. "Y-you…"

"Let me spare you the confusion," Baal interrupted, holding up a hand. "No, you're not hallucinating. This place has somehow duplicated all of us. Saiya killed the one of me, and I killed you, so that leaves that one right there. Is it still alive?"

Caesar bristled. "Of course! I just wanted to restrain her until I figured out why she was attacking me."

"Good thinking," said Baal. "Well, finish it off, and we'll see about getting out of here." When the other man hesitated, he growled, "What are you waiting for?"

"How do I know," Caesar said slowly, "that _you're_ real?"

"What?"

"Why do you want me to kill her?" Caesar persisted. "It'd be easier to leave her encased in ice. Unless _that's_ the real Saiya, and you're a construct of Diablo trying to trick me into murdering my friend."

Baal groaned. "Gods, do we really have to do this? If I was the enemy here, I'd be trying to kill _you_ , you damn fool. I wouldn't play games with you."

"Caesar," said Saiya. "You've got to believe us. Is there anything we can say to convince you?"

His hand clenched tightly on the handle of his wand. "You _act_ like them," he muttered, apparently to himself. "But … shit. I have to be positive. Can't risk Saiya's life. Can't …"

Baal and Saiya shared an alarmed glance. The young monk took a careful step forward, holding out one hand. "I'm right here," she said. "I'm fine, I promise. Caesar, look at me."

He did, but there was no trust in his storm-grey eyes. He looked uncertain and terrified, and she really couldn't blame him. The shadows in this world ate at the mind, decaying sanity and common sense until anything seemed possible.

Without warning, the frost glittering on the false Saiya melted away, though it was unclear whether or not Caesar had intentionally released the spell. As soon as the simulacrum was free, it dropped to its knees with a wail of anguish, arms clenched tight around its stomach.

"Saiya!" Caesar exclaimed, lunging forward to catch it, his face stricken.

"What the fuck is it doing?" Baal growled, low enough that only Saiya could hear.

She had an uncomfortable notion of _exactly_ what the fake her was trying to accomplish, but the thought was so unsettling that she didn't want to voice it aloud. If she was right, it would mean that these copies of them had access to their innermost secrets.

"My stomach!" gasped the simulacrum. Its features twisted in pain, fingers scrabbling weakly at its own flesh. "It hurts so much …"

"Lie down," Caesar urged, sounding on the edge of panic. "Everything's going to be okay. I promise-"

Rolling his eyes, Baal stepped soundlessly up behind him and rapped him sharply on the back of his head with the hilt of his knife. Caesar collapsed face-first onto the ground, mist swirling thickly around him as the air was displaced. The Hunter rolled him over and checked his breathing, then stood staring down at the demon imitating Saiya.

"Sorry," he said, "looks like you've lost your protector. Tell me what this place is and how to get out of it, and I'll give you a quick death."

The simulacrum grinned, allowing its legs to fall open obscenely. Baal ignored it.

"You've got three seconds."

"Please, just kill it already and let's get out of here," Saiya begged, trying to quell the fear rising in her chest. All her instincts were screaming at her that allowing this thing to talk was a _very_ bad idea.

"Two," said Baal. "One."

Knife in hand, he knelt and placed a hand on its shoulder, preparing to slit its throat. Before he could move, it said, "Let me live, and I'll tell you how to save your child."

Baal cocked his head to one side. "Save it from what?"

"Azmodan."

"Azmodan is dead," Baal scoffed. "I slew him myself, and your master is soon to follow."

A high-pitched giggle shook the simulacrum's shoulders. "Azmodan _is_ my master. And Belial. And Mephisto. All the Great Evils are now one within Diablo. You thought you were defeating them when Adria locked them in the Black Soulstone, but really, you were merely gathering them in one place so that they could be fused in a single vessel. Each one of you has played a vital part in Diablo's rise to power."

Shock played over Baal's features for a moment, but he reigned it in, lips parting in a fierce smile. "So what you're saying is, all we have to do is kill Diablo, and we'll have rid the world of _every_ Evil. Thanks for making it so convenient for us."

"Your arrogance will be your downfall, mortal," hissed the demon. "You cannot vanquish our kind. Your own mate holds Azmodan's child within her womb. Would you kill that, too?"

With a snarl, Baal buried his knife in its eye. He knelt there for a moment, shoulders heaving, before jerking the blade free and wiping it on his pants. When he turned to look at Saiya, there was something dangerous in his gaze. She shivered in spite of herself.

"You knew?" he rasped.

Saiya winced. "Not until just a few hours ago, when we were Auriel's garden. Ghor sensed something in … in me. When I tried to help her access her _mana._ "

"You knew," Baal repeated, voice flat, "and you didn't tell me. Why?"

"You would have stopped me from coming with you."

She expected him to swear, or yell at her. Instead, he sighed, a weary exhalation that seemed to contain the last shards of his energy.

"You would rather risk _everything_ than feel like we didn't need you," he said. The disappointment in his tone hurt far more than any words spoken in anger. It took Saiya all her willpower not to hang her head.

"You _do_ need me," she answered simply. "That's why I'm here. This has nothing to do with my pride, Baal, you must understand that. There's more at stake here than my life, than any of our lives. Diablo must be stopped, or the whole world will burn. Working together is our best chance of doing that."

"Yeah, well, look where that got us," he muttered. "It's just you and me now, love. You still think we can do this?"

Saiya reached out to take his hand, gratified when he allowed the small gesture of comfort. "Yes," she said. "I do."

" _-You are more resilient than I expected, Nephalem,-"_ hissed a voice from the air around them. The two humans started, glancing around, but saw no sign of their enemy.

"We haven't even gotten started!" Baal called back. "Let us out of here and you'll see what we're really capable of."

Diablo laughed, an extremely unpleasant sound. Saiya felt as though bugs were crawling all over her skin … spiders in her mouth …

" _-Let you out? The path is ahead of you, all you have to do is walk it.-"_

Ahead of her, the narrow, rickety stairs to the temple cellar led directly into the ground. She moved forward, hesitant, the candle in her hand dancing wildly with the draught of cold air rushing up from below. But knowing what was down there, layer upon layer of webs crawling of arachnids, she couldn't force her leaden legs to take another step.

"No," Baal moaned. He was laying on the ground beside her, thrashing like a man in the grip of a fevered dream. "No, I can't go back in. It's on fire …"

As soon as he said the word, Saiya could feel unbearable heat licking up her calves, a blaze of agony in the soles of her feet as the searing metal burned her skin away. Baal's weight pressing down on her, his lifeblood soaking her side.

With an effort, she shook off her horror, reminding herself that Baal had survived, only to find herself in the ruthless grip of the rapists on the dock in Antham. A whimper worked its way out of throat as the grinning man reached for her-

"No, that's not how it happened," she whispered. "Lyndon saved me."

More memories came flooding in, so swiftly that they began to flow together into a single choking moment. _A cell in the desert, heat and pain, vultures circling overhead, Asheara coming to take Baal away, trapped underground in the stifling darkness, sand all around, a dry voice in her ears guiding her towards the exit, the stretching sensation of another soul in her body, fangs in her shoulder spreading poison through her veins, Baal standing before the machine that would take his life, a great demon rearing above them, green abyss, a land of shadows from which there was no escape, waking to an empty bed, Baal gone, gone, abandoned, didn't want her, didn't love her, a hallway full of bodies, burning eyes, a claw on her stomach, anguish unlike any she'd felt before, and she couldn't take any more of it, she just wanted it to be over-_

Baal's voice echoed through her mind, as clearly as though he had just spoken: _"Our fear and sorrow and anger is food to them, it sustains them and makes them more powerful, which is why I have learned to temper my hatred with discipline, lest I inadvertently strengthen my enemy. So when you face a demon, do not let your righteous anger govern you, or sorrow burden your heart, and above all do not allow yourself to feel fear, for that will be your undoing."_

The words brought with them the sensation of rain on her face, the smell of death and decay, the sight of cold, pale flesh torn and bruised, left lying in the dirt. But Saiya pushed those recollections away, focusing only on what the Hunter had said. Right now, Diablo was using terror as a weapon against her, imprisoning her within the cage of her own mind. She would _not_ allow it.

Gritting her teeth, she forced her thoughts to turn to other, more pleasant memories. She visualized chasing Baal through the woodlands, breathless laughter filling the air. Sharing a cup of tea with Caesar as they talked of magic. Ghor's careful hands spreading healing balm over her scorched feet. Kormac offering to carry her pack as they began to climb a steep hill. Lyndon telling a dirty joke that had half the group in stitches while the other half turned a fascinating shade of red. The pride on Peter's face as he watched her fight. The head monk – Grigori, her _father_ – tucking her into bed at night, his callused palm stroking the hair from her forehead.

The mist around her cleared, and she found herself back on the platform beneath the Crystal Arch. Baal was on his hands and knees nearby, a bleeding gash on the inside of one forearm. Evidently, he had discovered his own way to break the oppressive spell. Caesar, still unconscious, lay on the ground between them.

"So," Diablo snarled. "You have survived the Realm of Terror. Perhaps you are too stupid to comprehend your own mortality."

"Not at all," Saiya answered boldly, readjusting her grip on her bladed knuckles. "We're just not afraid to die for a good cause."

The Prime Evil threw back his head and roared, a deafening crescendo that hit her ears like a shockwave. Cracks spread across the marble floor, fine as wire, working their way towards the arch itself. The tower shook to its very foundations, pieces of the façade crumbling away.

"I shall not stop with your destruction," the demon snarled. "When I have shattered the Heavens, when the angels are no more, I shall turn my gaze on the world of humans. For far too long, it has been left alone, growing idle and fat in its complacence. I shall burn it to the ground, and every wretched maggot that crawls through its mud will know what it means to fear me."

"Keep on dreaming," Baal spat, staggering to his feet. "You've failed so far, and you'll fail now. You're not as mighty as you pretend to be, you big piece of shit. Not even scary enough to frighten us in person. You've got to resort to cheap tricks and manipulation. Well-"

He was cut off by spines that reared up out of the stone around him, trapping him in place. The points had shredded his outfit as they rose, leaving long scratches on his arms and back. Saiya grabbed Caesar's feet and dragged him out of the way before a second cage could envelop him.

But while she was occupied with aiding the currently helpless wizard, Diablo had crossed the platform in a few quick strides and grabbed Baal around the waist through the bars of bone, wrenching him free with a painful snapping sound. Baal grunted, awkwardly flailing his limbs and slashing at the powerful hand that held him at arm's length. He managed to draw blood, but the Lord of Hell did not let go.

Instead, he opened his mouth and breathed fire into Baal's face.

The Hunter made no sound. It was _Saiya_ who screamed, raw and visceral and full of hate. Without conscious thought, she warped straight in front of Diablo and slammed her knuckles into his gut, as deep as they could go. He dropped Baal and staggered back, cursing at her in Incaentic. Fiery red liquid dripped down his belly.

Saiya spared a quick glance at her lover, crumpled at her feet. It was impossible to guess the extent of the damage, but it looked bad. He had turned his head, so one side of his face had taken the brunt of the attack. The sight and smell of burnt flesh turned Saiya's stomach.

"You bastard," she hissed at Diablo. "I'm going to kill you!"

He swept his tail around to lash at her, and she rolled beneath it, unleashing a blast of the bell as she came up to knock him off balance. To her surprise, he actually fell, one foot slipping in his own blood. Not wanting to waste an opening, she leapt upon him, plunging the single blade on her left hand through the latticed cavity of his chest.

Claws bit deep into her side, locking her in place, twisting cruelly in her flesh. Her knuckles had come free, and it took her a moment to realize why: the metal had melted in his molten innards, leaving her with a useless lump of steel.

Saiya drew in a ragged breath, trying to clear her head. She was in this alone. Baal and Caesar couldn't help her. She had no weapons capable of inflicting damage on the Lord of Terror.

Or did she? A visual flashed through her mind, of her father with a sword made of pure light in his hand, striding forward to combat the Butcher. If he could do it, why not her?

There was no mantra she was aware of that would summon or create armaments, and she had no time to try and fabricate one. Instead she closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of the demon below her, and reached deep inside herself, seeking her wellspring of holy power. Finding it quickly, she urged it up and out through her arms. Her bones vibrated with the strength of it, and her hands felt warm. Opening her eyes, she saw two shaky light-blades, each about a foot long, sprouting from her clenched fists.

They weren't nearly as powerful as the one her father had used – they flickered like candle flames in an open window – but they would serve her purpose well enough.

"Die, asshole," she grunted, and ran Diablo through.

The demon responded by throwing her bodily off of him. Something tore in her side as his claws ripped free. She landed hard on her back, skidding across the floor, and lay still for a moment. The light-blades guttered and died; apparently, they required a constant mental focus on her part to maintain. Something to work on.

Her attack had not been in vain, however, as she saw when the lord of hell struggled to his feet, tail lashing. His chest was oozing liquid fire where she had punctured it, and when he tried to send a gout of flame in her direction, only a few sparks fluttered forth, fading quickly in the air. He had been weakened.

Getting back up took a lot of effort. Her side was a mess, her robe there torn and sodden with blood. It was hard to breathe. She braced herself on her knees, panting, and met Diablo's gaze. They stared each other down for a moment, the Prime Evil and the human girl. It was, Saiya thought, like looking into a pool of lava: no coherent thought lurked behind his blazing eyes, only surging hatred.

He started towards her, and she backed away, releasing a blast of the bell. It was feeble, barely slowing him. She was about to warp, thinking only to delay the moment of her death for as long as she could, but then she noticed where she was positioned on the platform. Baal lay directly behind her. If she moved, he would be right in Diablo's path.

 _Well,_ she decided, _I guess this is as good a place as any for a last stand. I'd best make it a good one._

Diablo took another step closer. Gathering all her might, Saiya charged forward, slamming her shoulder into the wound in his belly. His blood splattered her neck, burning her skin like hot oil.

She began to retreat, stumbling a little, and the demon raised an arm to strike her … only to stop in midair. Frost glittered on the limb, rendering it immobile. Startled, Saiya glanced over to where Caesar had been laid out. He was standing upright, though he swayed drunkenly from side to side.

Snarling, Diablo brought his other arm up. There was a sharp twang, and a length of sticky rope wrapped around his wrist. Baal had fired his final spider-web bolt. The Hunter was on his back, holding grimly onto the bow with both hands, legs braced against the pull.

"Now, Saiya!" Caesar shouted. "Kill him!"

 _With what?_ she almost replied. _I have nothing left!_ But her friends had given his this opportunity, fighting through their own pain to help her, and she wasn't about to waste it over a tiny thing like being weaponless.

Concentrating every remaining bit of her energy in her right hand, she leaped into the air, using the spike on Diablo's knee as a stepping stone to launch herself higher. Twisting, she hit him in the face as hard as she could.

It hurt a lot. From the splintering ache in her wrist, she had broken her hand. But she had also succeeded in breaking Diablo's jaw, which hung loose and slack. It might not have been the finishing blow that she'd hoped for, but at least he wouldn't be talking anymore. They knowledge gave her some slight satisfaction.

Unfortunately, she had forgotten about his tail. It whipped around, quick as a striking snake, and this time she was too slow to dodge. It caught her across the midsection, sending her flying back. She landed across Baal's legs, gasping hard. Blinding agony radiated from her stomach.

Dimly, she heard Baal call her name, felt his arms close around her, cradling her against his chest. But she couldn't respond, couldn't breathe, couldn't _think,_ could only force out a pathetic whimper.

"Hey, answer me!" he demanded, shaking her. "Saiya, tell me you're okay!"

" _Mm,"_ she moaned.

"Damnit, Saiya-"

Snowflakes filled the air, stirred by a chill wind. Through tear-blurred eyes, Saiya saw Caesar standing in front of them, his arms outstretched. Globes of purple light gathered around him like fireflies.

 _He's beautiful,_ she thought hazily. _Like the sky at sunset …_

"I won't let you touch them," said the wizard, his voice steely. "You'll have to get through me first."

Bringing his palms together, he fired out a beam of magic, raw and powerful. Diablo roared as it struck him, cutting through the armor that Saiya had already damaged. Still, he refused to fall. Instead he leapt forward in a great bound and drove the spike on his forearm through Caesar's chest.

"No!" Saiya screamed. She tried to lurch upright, but Baal's grasp held her firmly in place, and she had no strength left to fight him. Caesar made a rough choking sound, his whole body shuddering, but his spell didn't falter. If anything, the beam glowed even brighter, as though he was pouring all his lifeforce into it.

A low hum, barely audible, had been steadily building since they had returned from the shadow realm. Now, with a tremendous _crack_ , the platform shattered, giving way beneath Diablo's feet. The Lord of Terror plunged downwards, dragging Caesar with him. As soon as Baal's grip slackened, Saiya tore herself free and crawled to the broken edge of crystal and gold, gripping it tightly as she watched the two figures, locked together in a vicious embrace, spiraling down, down, down, until they were lost to sight.

Suddenly exhausted, her arms gave way and she collapsed face down on the battle-scarred stone. Pressing her cheek against the smooth surface, she closed her eyes and let the darkness claim her.


	21. 21 - The Temple of the High Sun

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

 **(Love Conquers All)**

 _ **Part III: Children of Angels**_

* * *

 _"And when I feel like I can feel once again_  
 _Let me stay awhile, soak it in awhile_  
 _If we can hold on, we can fix what is wrong_  
 _Buy a little time for this head of mine_  
 _Heaven for us."_  
 _\- The Delgados_  
 _"Light Before We Land"_

* * *

 **Wow. Okay. It's been ... quite some time. I have a whole litany of excuses for why I've haven't updated in almost two months, but the real reason is that I just ran out of inspiration. Thankfully a few staunch friends have continued to encourage me, and it's thanks to them that I finally managed to wrap this section of the story up. You know who you are, awesome people! :) Anyway, by way of apology, I decided to upload the prologue for Part IV at the same time as I'm posting this chapter. Check it out! More coming soon! And reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated. Thank you all for reading!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: The Temple of the High Sun

The first time she awoke, she was enfolded in a pair of glowing wings, being carried high above the city. She turned her head to see the shadow of an angel's face beneath a white hood. It was neither her mother nor Azrael who bore her, and the names of the others had temporarily escaped her recollection. She drifted off again.

The second time, she was submerged in a pool of warm water, while careful hands washed her body, soothing her injuries. Now, she had the presence of mind to croak, "Baal?"

"Auriel is tending to him," the person bathing her replied.

"And Caesar? Is he okay? He fell …"

Fingers, armored in metal so fine it felt like a dragonfly's wing, carded through her hair. "Eremiel and Azrael went out looking for him. They have not yet returned. Rest now, child, your body needs to heal."

The third time, she opened her eyes to a dimly lit tower room, far removed from the glittering halls of Heaven. She tried to sit up, but her muscles refused to cooperate. She barely managed to turn her head enough to look at the bunk beside her. It was occupied by Ghor. Her eyes were closed and she was motionless, but the rise and fall of her chest indicated that she was merely fast asleep.

"Greetings, daughter," said a melodic voice. Laboriously, Saiya turned her head in the other direction. Her mother was sitting there, in the human form that she had taken on the ramparts when they'd first met … how many days ago? Only one? Or had it been many?

"How long?" Saiya gasped. Forcing words from her throat was difficult.

"By mortal reckoning, it has been five days since Diablo was defeated," Eremiel replied.

"And we're back in Bastion's Keep now?" the young monk asked, or at least, tried to ask. Actually, what emerged was _"Bast' Keep?"_

Eremiel heaved a sigh. "Imperius permitted us to save your lives, but he would not tolerate your presence for a moment longer. As soon as it was safe to move you, we brought you back here."

"Whattanass," Saiya slurred. To her surprise, the angel giggled a little, holding a demure hand over her mouth to conceal the noise.

"I apologize," she said. "I was imagining his face if he were to hear you say such a thing … however true it might be. I must apologize on his behalf, my darling, and also offer you our most sincere gratitude, since his pride will now allow him to do so."

Saiya waved a hand; it flopped uselessly on her wrist. "Don' mention it. Gods, why'm I so _weak_?"

Eremiel's expression sobered abruptly, all traces of mirth wiped from her lovely face. "You were very close to death. The blow from Diablo's tail damaged something inside you. You were bleeding from nose and mouth, and … other places as well. It was most frightening to behold, especially for those of us who are unaccustomed to dealing with physical forms."

"I … bled? From here?" She touched briefly between her legs, and her mother nodded. Cold fear gripped Saiya's heart. She was no expert on pregnancy, but she knew enough to realize that that was a very bad sign. "My baby," she whispered. "Is it …?"

"Auriel informed me that you are with child," said Eremiel. "She also told me that something is wrong with it. When she was healing you, she felt a dark aura in your womb, a presence that did not belong there. She wished to remove it, but I stopped her. It would not have been right to do it without your consent. However, I must warn you that if you choose to keep the child, it could have serious consequences."

Saiya's brain was a whirlwind of emotions: incredible relief that her baby had survived, raw fury that someone tried to destroy it, profound gratitude to Eremiel for preventing that from happening. But most of all, confusion, thick and stifling, filling her head like the buzzing of a swarm of bees.

"C-consequences?" she managed. "What d'you mean?"

"As far as our scholars are aware, there has never been such a being," replied Eremiel. "It would be human, of course, as you and Baal are human. But you are also Nephalem, and powerful ones at that. Your offspring would have an unusually high concentration of angelic blood. That alone is nothing to be concerned about – your friend Ghor likely has as much or more, since she is the product of many generations of careful breeding. But to add a demonic strain into that mix, and from Azmodan no less … well. It is like putting a spark to gunpowder. The result will undeniably be impressive, but potentially extremely unstable. To say nothing, of course, of to danger to _you_ , carrying such a thing within you until it is ready to enter the world. Perhaps it would be better to end-"

"Enough!" Saiya snapped, and Eremiel recoiled as if she'd been struck. "We're not talking about an alchemy experiment here. This is my _child_. My baby! I don't care _what_ it is, I'm not going to … to _murder_ it! You nearly died to give birth to me. You of all people should understand how I feel."

Eremiel bowed her head. "Forgive me, daughter. I meant no offense. I was thinking only of your safety."

"I know," she replied, trying to smile. It felt shaky, her lips trembling. For all her fierce protectiveness, she couldn't help the sliver of revulsion buried deep in her chest at the thought of having any part of Azmodan inside her.

" _Quod fatum non flumen fluit in posteriorem partem inclinatur,"_ murmured Eremiel. She seemed to be speaking primarily to herself, however, so Saiya did not ask for a translation.

"When are you going back to the Heavens?" she inquired instead, wanting to change to topic.

A lost expression passed across Eremiel's face, and for a brief moment, she looked like a child herself. "I am no longer welcome there," she said. "Imperius has exiled Azrael and myself for our disobedience. He called it a 'rebellion', though we did not see it as such. We were given a choice between joining Tyrael in the realm of the humans, or allowing ourselves to fade into the light and be reborn."

"And you both chose Tyrael?"

"We did not feel that our time in this world was finished," Eremiel said. "There is still much for us to do here."

"I'm sorry that you were exiled because of us," Saiya said.

Her mother's smile was as sweet and gentle as falling rain. "Oh, dear heart, you had nothing to do with it. We are being punished for daring to think for ourselves. It would have happened sooner or later."

"Still, it must be painful for you."

"We will miss the shining city in the sky," Eremiel admitted, "but I hear that there are many extraordinary places in Sanctuary. Perhaps we shall travel for a while, and see some of them."

"Where are Baal and Caesar?" Saiya asked. "Are they in a different wing of the infirmary?" She could imagine Calderos insisting that male and female patients be housed separately, but Calderos was dead. Who had taken command in his stead? Haille? She couldn't remember.

"Last I saw of your demon hunter, he was crafting arrows in the Commons," Eremiel replied. "But that was several hours ago, so he may have moved elsewhere."

"Not to my bedside, certainly," Saiya grumbled. "Nothing's changed there, then." She frowned, realizing that her mother had answered only half the question. "And Caesar?"

Tears glimmered in Eremiel's eyes. "I am so sorry, my darling. Azrael and I searched for days, but though we found the place where Diablo lies, your friend's body was not there."

"His _body_?" Saiya echoed sharply. "What makes you think he's dead?"

"He was badly injured. Even if by some miracle he survived the fall, there is nothing but wilderness for miles around. I am afraid that even Auriel could find no reason to hope he still lives."

Saiya turned her head so she was staring straight up at the conical ceiling of the tower, at the layers of stone, wood, and straw thatching that kept out the cold. She heard Eremiel rise and start towards her, but forestalled her advance with a mumbled, "I'd like to be alone for a little while, please."

A human might have might felt the sting of rejection; Eremiel merely smiled and said, "I will be downstairs if you require me."

"It's not their fault," Saiya whispered once her mother had gone. She said it aloud in the hope that it would be more convincing. It wasn't. Logically, she knew that the two angels had done all they could have been expected to and more, but that didn't make the thought of her beloved friend dying alone – perhaps waiting futilely for rescue, thinking himself deserted and forgotten – any less wrenching. Five days was a long time, yes, but Baal had survived for longer after Adria had abandoned him at Sescheron.

Baal. She had found _him_ , hadn't she? Had spirit-walked all the way to where he'd lain, guided by her driving need to find the man she loved above all else. Her bond with Caesar was not as strong, but there was no reason that she shouldn't try.

The last time she'd done it, it had happened more or less by accident. She hadn't even been fully aware that her form was not corporeal. Now, she was acutely aware of her body as her spirit left it behind, the exact moment when pain and fatigue was transmuted into a blissful numbness, the way her eyelashes dropped and her breathing slowed.

 _That flesh and blood is a vessel,_ she thought, staring down at it. _And I am the substance that fills and animates it. Without me, it is empty._ It was disturbing, to look at her own body as an object to be picked up and put down again at will. If she chose not to return to it, would it continue to slumber without her, swelling with her child? Would something else come along and, finding a vacant home, take her place?

Turning away, she waked out through the tower wall and into the air beyond, finding it just as simple as stepping through an open doorway. The sun was just rising, painting grey stone and pale ice in shades of red and gold. From this vantage point, she could see the Keep in all its ruined glory: burnt wood, cracked stone, and bloodied snow, crumbling ramparts choked with piles of rubble that had yet to be cleared away. On the plains below, soldiers swarmed like ants, piling the corpses of demons to be immolated, hacking apart the ones too large to move. Their own dead they laid in rows along the base of the wall to await identification (if possible) and a funeral pyre. Scraps of red cloth flew like victory flags from the battlements, one for each of the fallen.

Saiya left the scene of devastation and sent her consciousness northward, into the frozen forests past Arreat. Snow hung heavy on the tree limbs and lay in drifts on the mountain slopes, its surface undisturbed by her passage. The air was still here, not even a breeze to stir it, as if all the world held its breath.

The place where Diablo had come crashing down was not difficult to find; it radiated a foul and twisted energy. At the bottom of a crater, half-buried in ice and raw earth, lay the Prime Evil, his hellfire extinguished, his eyes gone dark. The whole place stank of blood and brimstone. Standing at the crater's rim, staring down at her vanquished foe, Saiya wondered if his body would decay or if it would remain whole, preserved by the cold, for any who wanted to see it.

But she had other, more important matters to attend to. Her instincts told her that Caesar hadn't fallen far from here. Concentrating, she sought out his signature, and detected a faint waft of cinnamon through the burnt trees on the left. She followed the trail, stumbling a little in her eagerness. Pushing aside the curtain of singed needles – or rather, passing through it – the young monk found herself on the shore of a frozen lake.

It was a beautiful place. Where the sun touched it, the snow-crusted surface became pure diamond, multi-faceted and shining. In summer, when the waters were free, Saiya imagined that they would reflect the majestic spire of the peak that thrust heavenward above her, white-capped even on the hottest day of the year.

A small flurry of flakes drifted down from the cloudless sky, brushing her cheeks and landing in her hair. Saiya touched one, wishing with a sudden desperate ache that she could feel the bite of it on her fingertips. But even if she had been physically present, magical ice was only cold if its master wished it to be.

"Goodbye, Caesar," she whispered.

Her eyes were stinging. She reached up to wipe at them, only to find that the world around her had gone dark. She was back in the infirmary, and the window slits were shuttered to keep out the cold and the light.

"You awake?" rasped a voice beside her. Saiya hardly recognized it as Baal's. He sounded as though he had swallowed a bowl full of nails and then vomited them back up again. Turning, she saw him sprawled across a chair, shirtless, with Thaqib resting on his lap, loaded and ready to fire.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I came to earlier, but you weren't here. My mother-"

"She told me." His eyebrow raised, a silent inquiry.

There was no point in lying about it. "I spirit-walked in search of Caesar."

Baal nodded. "And what did you find?"

"He's gone," she whispered. The words left a gaping hole in her heart, as though something had been torn out.

Baal nodded again. There was no surprise on his face, only a weary sorrow. After a moment, he picked up something on the ground beside him and tossed it to her. It was Caesar's hat, carefully cleaned and repaired.

"Thought you might want it," he said.

Saiya swallowed past the lump in her throat, hands fisting around the felt brim. "Thanks," she mumbled. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. You're the one who nearly died." But he wasn't looking at her, and a prickling certainty spread across the back of her neck that there was something he wasn't telling her. She sat up, craning her neck to get a better look at the side of his face that was hidden in shadow.

There was no scarring. The angelic healers had done their work very well. His flesh was as whole and perfect as it had been before, but …

"Your eye," she breathed, horrified. "Baal …"

"It was a small price to pay," he said. He was trying so hard to sound indifferent, but she could hear the devastation strung through his tone and knew what he was thinking: _what good is a demon hunter who is blind in one eye?_

It wasn't noticeable unless you really looked closely, a milky glaze over the sea-green that not even the tint of crimson could burn away. His pupil still tracked movement in tandem with the other, but it was an automatic response. Anything too far to the left fell into the void. It would be a serious handicap on the battlefield, she thought with a chill.

"I'm _so_ sorry!" she choked, reaching for him. "I should have done something, should have prevented this."

"Like you could have. This wasn't your fault, _nuur il'-en,_ any more than it would have been my fault if you'd miscarried. We all sacrificed something for our victory. Caesar gave more than either of us. We should be grateful to be alive and relatively whole."

"Still … what are you going to do now? You can't hunt demons when you can't see them."

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a humorless grin. "Watch me."

"But-"

"I'll learn to cope, Saiya, like people do when this sort of thing happens. Would it stop _you_? I didn't think so. Anyway, there are more important questions to answer, such as what you intend to do about that little hell-spawn you're carrying around."

Saiya flinched in shock, feeling as though he had driven a knife into her womb. "Don't you fucking talk about our child like that!" she snarled.

Baal gave her a flat look. "It's not just our child now, though, is it? I don't think you realize how dangerous a hybrid like that could be."

"Not you too!" There was a hysterical edge in her voice, which she struggled to suppress. It would do no one any good if she were to fly to pieces.

" _Saiya."_ To her surprise, there were tears in his eyes. "Do you think I _want_ to kill it? Do you think the idea doesn't hurt me too? But raising it wouldn't be like anything you could imagine. We could never treat it like a normal kid, _never_. We would have to be constantly vigilant, always on our guard in case the demonic strain in its blood rises to the surface."

She ground her teeth in a fierce grimace. "So we learn to cope, _like people do_."

"Don't do that," he snapped, glaring at her. "Don't use my own words against me."

"Look, Baal," she said. "I'm not asking anything of you that you don't want to give. If you'd rather not accept the responsibility, I completely understand. It's a lot to ask, especially given that you've committed your life to wiping out the very thing that's now a part of me. I get that, I really do. But the baby inside me has a right to live. I can't take that away from it."

"You think this is about me being selfish," said Baal. "It's not. It's about _duty_ , Saiya. Imagine this scenario: imagine that you give birth to a healthy little infant, you love and nurture it, you bring it up in the most adoring of homes, never telling it about the evil that dwells inside it because you don't want to disturb the poor thing. But eventually, that evil starts to break free because you can't hold that sort of thing down, no matter how hard you try. And a time comes when you're put into the position of having to destroy this child that you love so much, because if you don't, you're betraying the world that you fought to protect. What then, Saiya? Could you do that, do you think?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I'd do what I had to, I suppose. But you're wrong about one thing: I _wouldn't_ hide this from the child. You said that we could never treat it normally, so I wouldn't. I'd teach it about the darkness inside it, and how to control and master it so that it would never be unleashed on the world."

Baal grunted. "And if all your hard work was in vain?"

"Sometimes that happens!" Saiya cried, frustrated with his cynical determination to see only the worst-case scenario. "People – just plain ordinary people – can be evil too, Baal. Even without any demonic influence, our child could grow up to become a rapist or a murderer. _We don't have any control over that!_ All we can do is give it our best shot. And as I said before, if you're not willing to do that, then … you're free. You have no obligation to me."

His face twisted, eyes – intact and useless – fixed on a knot on the floor. "I need to think about it," he muttered. "I … I'm so sorry, _nuur il-'en_ , it's not _you_ , you know it's not. The thought of not being with you always is worse than death to me. But I'm not sure I can do this."

Her heart cracked at the thought that after all they'd been through together, this might be the thing that finally built an insurmountable wall between them. She nodded, somehow finding the strength to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Take all the time you need," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Baal stood up, fishing a clean shirt out of his pack and shrugging it on. Then, with a last broken glance at her that tracked from her face to her stomach and back again, he turned and strode out of the room. The moment he was gone, Saiya unleashed the storm that was raging inside her chest in a long drawn-out wail, burying her face in Caesar's hat. A faint hint of cinnamon clung to the material still. She breathed it in, sobbing until her guts cramped and her throat burned.

They had killed Diablo. They had saved the High Heavens, and the people of Sanctuary, from ruin. So why did she feel as if it had all been for nothing?

For a brief, blinding moment, she wished that she had never woken up. Then her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in a _very_ long time, and self-pity was buried under the basic demands of a body that wanted to keep living, no matter how the woman occupying it felt.

She gave the hat a final squeeze and tucked it safely under her pillow. Then she levered herself out of bed with a strength drawn more from stubbornness than energy. She was clad in clothing she didn't recognize: a soft white cotton tunic and pants. Her feet were bare, but that didn't deter her in the slightest. Staggering a little, using walls and tables for support, she made her way down the spiral stairs to the commons.

Once Saiya had collected a large bowl of hearty stew (evidently the monthly delivery of supplies from Westmarch had occurred), she looked around for a place to sit and noticed Ghor all by herself in a dark corner. Not quite alone, however, as the young monk noticed when she drew closer: Gawahir was perched on Ghor's knee. Saiya suddenly realized that she hadn't seen the raven since their bloody battle with Azmodan. He was very thin, and the gloss had gone out of his feathers, leaving them rather bedraggled. Ghor was talking to him in a soft voice and hand-feeding him shreds of meat.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Saiya asked, standing over them.

"Not at all," replied Ghor. "Please, sit." She patted the empty spot beside her with her free hand.

"How's he doing?" Saiya asked, indicating Gawahir with a tilt of her head as she started to eat.

"Recovering," said Ghor. "He is a hearty creature, but it will be some time before he returns to full health, if he ever does. To endure Azmodan's gaze is a serious thing, especially for one so small."

"You were very brave," Saiya told the bird. At the sound of her voice, he turned his back and flipped up his tail at her – the avian version of giving someone the finger, she decided. She chuckled and tugged on one of his feathers.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry we left you behind. You would have liked the High Heavens too, everything was very shiny."

" _Bitch,"_ squawked Gawahir, sulkily.

"And how about you, Ghor?" Saiya inquired, turning to her friend. "Are you alright?"

"Physically, I am fine," said the _sangoma_. She did not elaborate immediately, and Saiya began to feel rather nervous.

"And mentally? Or spiritually, if that's what you meant?"

"I have regained the use of my _mana_ ," said Ghor. She didn't sound happy about it. Saiya's grin died on her face.

"Is that … not a good thing?"

"It would be," said Ghor, "if it was natural. But the gates remain open and cannot be closed. I am flooded and swelling with power I cannot bear to use."

Saiya frowned. "Why not? What's wrong with it?"

"It has been tainted by the presence of Azmodan within you," murmured Ghor. "He squats atop the gate like a great toad, wearing the face of my old friend Churamungu, but his black blood runs down in rivers and corrupts the water of my _mana_ as it passed through from beyond. I do not know how to remove him."

"There must be a way!" Saiya gasped, horrified. "Some ritual, and exorcism …"

"Perhaps," Ghor nodded. "I will see when I return to my homeland."

"I'm so sorry," Saiya whispered, unable to meet the other woman's eyes. "It's my fault, isn't it. I did that to you when I forced the gate open. You changed …"

"Yes," said Ghor. "You did this. I was very angry with you for several days after I awoke. I thought of going away immediately because I did not want to see your face. But Eremiel needed my help to care for you once we returned here. In your sleep, you spoke to me. I do not think you were aware of what you said, but it eased my rage and put my soul at rest. I can say now in all honesty that I forgive you. What you did was terrible, but it was not without purpose."

"What _did_ I say?" asked Saiya, grateful and mystified all at once.

Ghor smiled. "That, child, is between myself and the part of you that remembers saying it. But enough of me. How are you coping?"

Intuitively, Saiya knew that Ghor was speaking not only of her pregnancy and all its complications, but also the devastating dual loss of Baal's eye and Caesar's life. It was a lot to absorb, horror stacked on horror to form a twisted wall that, bizarrely, acted as somewhat of a shield from the pain. It was as if it was so overwhelming that she could only stand to feel a fraction of it at any given time. If she thought about her child, corrupted and innocent, then she forgot that Caesar was dead. If she recalled his absence from her life, permanent now, then she could almost believe that Baal could see perfectly.

 _If ever I remember all three at once, I might explode from the agony,_ Saiya thought. But she also knew that wasn't true; she had everything in her mind at the moment, and all she felt was a vague numb nausea deep in her stomach.

"He's dead," she mumbled. It was the part of her suffering that was least private, for it was shared by all who'd known the wizard. "He died to save us. Diablo would have ended it right there, both Baal and I gone in one sweep of his tail, but Caesar got in the way. I think he knew that he wouldn't survive it, but he didn't care."

Ghor closed her eyes, and tears glimmered like diamonds on her lowered lashes. "I cannot imagine a death that he would have preferred," she said.

Saiya nodded. "I miss him."

"We always will. But we must not forget the living in our grief for those who now walk in other worlds."

"I guess the shadows got him back after all," Saiya said, with a bitter huff that couldn't be called a laugh under any circumstances. Abruptly, a distant memory came floating back to her: the group of them huddled in a little house in the highlands, waiting out the storm, and a woman (Karyna, that was her name) telling their fortunes with cards. Caesar had drawn the Hanged Man.

 _The arcana of the slaughtered lamb,_ Karyna had said, her tone glum, _the innocent sacrifice._ Had he known when he drew the card that their journey would end with him giving up his life?

Well, it mattered little now. He was gone, and she would mourn him always, as she would mourn Lyndon and Peter and the friendship that she might have had with Leah if Baal had not unwittingly come between them. But she could also feel the pulse of life within her own body, and that had to come first, even before her blinding love for Baal.

"Excuse me," she said, getting to her feet. "I need to spend a bit of time alone. I have a lot to think about."

"Indeed you do," said Ghor. As Saiya was walking away, the witch doctor's parting words came floating after her: "Remember, child, all life is precious."

On the way out to the ramparts, she had a brief conversation with Captain Haille (Commander, now). He congratulated her on her victory, she praised him for his clear-headed leadership in the wake of the siege, he expressed his condolences and informed her that Kormac had left for Westmarch the day after their return from the Heavens.

"He asked me to give all of you his thanks," Haille said.

"I appreciate the message, Commander," Saiya said. Haille saluted her, and she returned the gesture of respect, thinking how much of an improvement he was over his predecessor. They parted ways: Haille to inspect the repairs to the catapults, and Saiya to wander aimlessly along the wall, gazing out over the ice fields. The sky was covered by a flat disk of steel-grey clouds, but near the horizon, a bright strip of color was visible, where the sun was setting. It looked as though the edge of the world had caught fire.

 _That's where I need to be,_ she thought. _Ivgorod. It's time for me to go home._

A sense of peace washed over her, a oneness with herself that she hadn't felt for a long time. At that moment, she knew she would be alright if Baal chose to leave her. Her love for him would never, _could_ never, fade. It would forever burn as fiercely as the sun that devoured the clouds, and it would not be affected by any distance that he put between them.

"Thought I'd find you here," said the Hunter. She had not heard his approach, thanks to his spell-muffled boots, but she was too relaxed and at peace to be startled. He came up on her left side and leaned on the battlements, and she realized with a sharp pang that he had chosen the left so that she wouldn't be in his blind spot.

"Made up your mind yet?" she asked, giving him a small smile.

Baal nodded. "Yeah. I'm in. You know me, I've never been able to resist a challenge."

"What decided you?" For some reason, it seemed important that she know _why_ he was choosing to stay with her.

"Kormac," Baal replied.

Saiya gave him an odd look. "Haille just told me that Kormac is already gone. He returned to Westmarch."

"I know," said Baal, "but I was thinking about him. When he first met Ghor, he was so distrustful of her because of her magic. He judged her before he even knew her. But when he gave her a chance …"

"He found out that his judgment was wrong," Saiya finished.

"I've always prided myself on my open-mindedness," he said, scrutinizing the palm of his hand as if it held all the answers to every question in the universe. "The only thing I've ever truly hated was demonkind. Maybe … maybe there's something I can learn from all this."

"I think we'll both be learning a lot, love," Saiya said, and kissed him.

* * *

They departed the Keep three days later, refusing Commander Haille's offer of an armed escort in favor of traveling fast, light, and inconspicuous. Ghor went with them, as did Tyrael, Azrael, and Eremiel. The three angels were bound for Kehjistan, where they planned to found the Horadrim anew with the explicit goal of guarding the Black Soulstone, which now contained the essences of all the Great Evils. One of their many tasks, Tyrael explained, would be to track down Adria.

"You could do worse than to recruit Eirena, when you get to Caldeum," Baal suggested. "She is a skilled enchantress."

Tyrael nodded gravely. "I shall certainly consider it."

On their sixth day out, Saiya spotted several figures following them at a distance. From their size and their garb, she and Baal figured them to be Barbarians, and had a somewhat heated debate over whether they should be treated as friend or foe. Baal thought it might be Freja, while Saiya wasn't so sure. In the end, they decided that because they didn't have Lyndon to translate for them in the event that it _wasn't_ Freja, it would be better to proceed with caution. They kept on their guard for several days, especially during the night, but in the end, their mysterious pursuers (or honor guard) simply disappeared.

They parted ways in the city of Bramwell, the gateway of civilization in the far west. It was an emotional separation, with tears shed all around. Saiya and Ghor clung to each other for some time. Azrael tried to shake his son's hand and uttered a shocked cry when he was pulled in for a fierce embrace instead. Eremiel gifted Saiya with a belt that was woven of her own shorn hair, which glimmered and shone like strands of the purest gold.

"May it protect you, daughter, wherever you go," she whispered in Saiya's ear.

"Thank you," Saiya replied. "I'll wear it always."

"If you should ever have need of us, do not hesitate to send word," Tyrael instructed them. "A letter to Iron Wolves in Caldeum should reach us."

"If you find Adria, I want to know about it," Baal said, eyes and voice hard. "I owe her a lot of pain."

After that, it was just the two of them (and faithful Gawahir, of course), making their slow way through the forests of Westmarch and up into the mountains that bordered Ivgorod. It was a peaceful time. They made camp early and slept late, reveling in the warmth of each other's arms. They talked some, but most of the time they were silent, content simply to exist side by side. After all the long months of fighting and fear, it was a great relief, Saiya thought, not to feel anything at all but a blissful emptiness. She could sense that Baal didn't find the reprieve quite as restorative as she did – she would often wake to find him sitting and staring out into the dark – but he was clearly working hard not to disturb her with his own inner troubles, and she didn't force him to divulge what he thought about in the dead hours of the night.

By the time their journey was over, Saiya was more than three months pregnant, and her robe was growing uncomfortably tight across her stomach. She eyed the growing bulge with trepidation, wondering how large it would be by the time she was ready to give birth. To her great embarrassment, Baal insisted on purchasing a pair of sturdy mountain ponies for the final climb up to the temple.

"It's ridiculous!" she protested. "I can still walk!"

"We don't want to put the little one at risk," was all he said. She couldn't argue with that.

Late in the afternoon on a cold, grey day, they traversed the narrow winding road up Mount Ursinad, and arrived at last at the temple gates. Saiya struck the gong that would alert Brother Myrin that someone required entrance. As they waited, she turned to look out over the vale that curved sharply away before them, a knife-split between towering peaks. It was snow-clad at present, but in the summertime, the slopes would be covered in grass the color of emeralds, with wildflowers strewn like stars throughout.

"A green valley in the mountains," she murmured.

"What's that?" Baal asked. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."

Saiya smiled. "Nothing. I'm just happy to be home."

* * *

 _* Eremiel said, "The river of time can never flow backwards."_


End file.
